


of a feather

by ShaneShenanigans



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Angst, Humor, Jim Gordon (bird), M/M, Mutual Pining, jim is a fucking bird, jim is a sparrow for most of this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-14
Updated: 2019-08-21
Packaged: 2020-06-28 09:31:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 27,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19809517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShaneShenanigans/pseuds/ShaneShenanigans
Summary: Jim's mind is in the body of a sparrow and something else that has taken an interest in Oswald is in the body of Jim.





	1. crash

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place in its entirety between seasons 3 and 4. It's a little different from my usual in that the main goal I guess is humor.

His eyes drooped, the tip of his pen tapping on the page as his face smushed itself further into the palm of his hand. It was midday pushing evening, but he hadn’t slept the night before. He wished he had a reason. He wished he’d been out destroying or threatening or discovering his enemies like so many other sleepless nights. Sitting here now, at his desk, pen in hand, if anyone asked he could at least suggest that he’d been working all night, though it wasn’t true. 

And no one would ask.

These bouts of insomnia weren’t unprecedented, though they usually came about when he had a reason to be worried out of his mind. When Theo Galavan had kidnapped his mother, when Ed went missing after the election, after he came back from the dead and before he’d put Ed on ice. But at least then he had something to do, something to focus on, and an excuse. A justification for himself, and others, were anyone to ask why he couldn’t sleep. _No one would._

Instead he sat at his desk, knowing that his day was unscheduled and he could surely sleep now if he wanted to. But that if he lay down his mind would well up with a mixture of non-linear nonsense and dread until he made himself get up again. Stalk around the halls in hopes of making his body tired so his mind would follow. It wouldn’t work, and the halls were all empty.

So instead he sat, telling himself he was going to get some work done despite being caught up on it, tapping his pen on the page until the sound lulled him into discomfort and he made himself read some random choice of words on one of the pages, over and over again, until it was all he could hear in his head.

_Individuals exempt; _were the words he’d chosen this time, something about them had a calming flow. His eyes drooped further, the sound of the words in his mind fading as if his inner voice were moving further away. The pen dropped from his hand, his eyes finally shut completely, and—__

__A crash and a swirling of pages up into the air on his desk. The pages and something among them fluttered about. For a moment he was sure he was dreaming, until that moment passed, and he blinked down at the messed pages, some torn and ruined.In the center, on its side, face smashed against the page next to the words _individuals exempt_ , looking up at him in fear (or perhaps just frustration for its own clumsiness) was a bird._ _

__Its wings were sprawled out around it like it didn’t know how to fold them, its sharp miniature talons clutching and puncturing a legal document from the mayor that he’d only just opened. It looked at him, neck feathers expanding and retracting with heavy breaths.He would have shoved at it, swatted, he thought, but he was still sleep shocked. The mere seconds he’d been asleep still offered the possibility this was a dream._ _

__Had he even left a window open?_ _

__The bird had started to gather itself. A little sparrow, exceptionally fat and puffing its feathers up even further with narrowed eyes and a very tiny sort of rage once it managed to get on its feet.Maybe it was the lack of sleep, but Oswald found himself amused at the way it puffed at him, as if trying to intimidate him, and he could only meet its gaze. Surely it would realize it had no chance in the stare-down and panic, start flying around the room so he’d have to call Ivy or someone to catch it._ _

__Instead, it stood taller, and let out a short, sharp tweet like a tiny dog barking, complete with a little hop for emphasis._ _

__Oswald felt the side of his mouth twitch into an amused smile as it challenged him, then tilted its head when he did nothing in response. It squeaked again, this time louder, as if intending more meaning, and Oswald had to laugh. A broken, strained giggle, because it was the first sound he’d made with his mouth in over twelve hours._ _

__It responded as if it knew what laughter was, puffing itself up again and glaring at him.His mother always told him not to touch wild birds, that they were diseased and all that. But, he was still wearing his gloves, and they could be washed. Slowly, he raised his hand to try and push the limits of the bird’s fearlessness. When his fingers came close to it, it leaned away in distaste but didn’t fly off. When he moved them closer, it pecked at them as if in warning to stay away, and he laughed again, this time louder._ _

__She’d liked birds, the pretty green, yellow, and red ones at least. When he was much younger they’d gone to a local pet store, and she’d fawned over parakeets and cockatiels. He remembered her telling him that if you place your finger just underneath their chest, it would often prompt them to step up onto it.He did exactly that, and looking around as if its actions had confused even itself, the sparrow stepped up onto his finger._ _

__He raised it to his face, unable to keep himself from smiling as it just studied him back._ _

__“Boss?” The door opened suddenly, and the bird fluttered about in surprise and fell off of its perch, landing on its back on his desk._ _

__“What the hell?” Zsasz furrowed his brow at the scene as the bird tweeted loudly up at Oswald, as if blaming him for its fall. “When did we get a bird?”_ _

___“We?”_ Oswald scoffed to himself, and huffed, glancing at the little upside-down-animal once before addressing Zsasz directly._ _

__“What do you want?” He’d forgotten Zsasz would have shown up by now— hours ago, actually. Apparently he hadn’t had a reason to bother Oswald until now._ _

__“Gordon’s here to see you. Didn’t say why, should I send him up?”_ _

__The bird shrieked loudly as if in response, Oswald ignored it as Zsasz raised his brow in its direction._ _

__“Yes,” Oswald nodded, though he wasn’t sure why he did as he certainly hadn’t thought the answer through. He’d hardly seen Jim outside small exchanges of false pleasantries and accusations, not since he’d tried to trade his life to Nygma for Tetch. What could he possibly want now?_ _

__Zsasz had gone to fetch him, and Oswald stepped out from behind his desk to wait. He glanced at the spot where the bird was to find it had moved, but not far. It was now next to his paperweight, and had flattened itself as if it were hiding behind it._ _

__Oswald didn’t get another thought in before Jim was in the room._ _

__“Oswald,” he greeted, rather calmly, so it was clear he wasn’t here in a fit of rage about some crime Oswald had committed or to demand information._ _

__“Jim!” Oswald forced a grin across his face. “Long time no see my old friend, how can I help you?” There was just enough sarcasm to please him._ _

__Jim seemed to hesitate at the door for a moment, then stepped further in. “Right…” he said, looking around almost nervously. “I do need your help.”_ _

__Oswald hesitated as well. Jim’s voice sounded characteristically different. Softer, and not because he was speaking more softly— like his tone itself was less heavy. Oswald didn’t think on it very long._ _

__o-o-o_ _

__Jim didn’t know birds could growl until he had the urge to as he glared hard at the image of himself from behind the paper weight. He hadn’t noticed him yet— he, being the entity currently occupying Jim’s body as it walked too-carefully into the room to pass as Jim Gordon. He humored the idea that Oswald may even see through it, be able to tell it wasn’t really him._ _

__What could this thing possibly want with Oswald? Jim had been following it since he’d first found himself like this, feathered and small and helpless to do anything but perhaps peck its eyes out in its sleep. But of course, those were his eyes, and were he ever to get back into his body, he’d want them the same as he left them. He didn’t know for sure if whatever or whoever was currently occupying his body was the same thing that did this to him, but he didn’t care. It had been almost a full day of stumbling around, flapping about to no avail— he could barely even fly yet. Being a bird was hard, and he was beyond done with it._ _

__On the flip-side whoever was in there had taken to his body immaculately. It had even taken a shower and gotten dressed.At first he was surprised that this was the first place it had decided to go, but then he remembered how powerful Oswald was. Of course if this thing wanted something it would go to Oswald. Now was Jim’s chance to find out what it wanted._ _

__“I’d be happy to help. For the right price, of course,” Oswald replied, and bird Jim glared his beady dark eyes in his direction now. He couldn’t think of anything Oswald currently wanted from him, but of course he’d think of something._ _

__“I can’t pay you,” Not-Jim said, and Oswald looked confused. If birds could roll their eyes, Jim would have been rolling his. Apparently whoever was in there had no idea what Oswald was actually asking for, and it sure as hell wasn’t money._ _

__“But I’ll do whatever you want,” he watched his lips say and immediately panicked. _Whatever you want?!_ “It’s personal. I… need money.”_ _

__Jim’s bird-eyes were wide in horror. Who was it and what the hell was it up to?_ _

__Oswald looked as floored as Jim felt sick as they both stared down the imposter, waiting for an explanation that likely wouldn’t come._ _

__“You want on the payroll? Jim Gordon?” Oswald laughed. “Who are you really?”_ _

__Fake Jim panicked and for a few moments the little bird hiding behind the paperweight was ecstatic at the thought that Oswald had actually seen through him, but—_ _

__“You must be in deep if you’re willing to go this far— no, let me guess. It’s someone else, some damsel in distress or… poor… orphan or…” Oswald trailed off on listing the possibilities until he finally turned back to his desk, reaching for something and then pausing when he noticed the bird, as if he’d forgotten about it._ _

__Jim shrunk further, hoping Oswald wouldn’t acknowledge him._ _

__“…no matter, Jim. Just tell me how much you need, and I’ll come up with something for you to do. And don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone.” Oswald winked, grinning. He was such a manipulative bastard that Jim couldn’t help pecking at his hand as he reached for his check book. He didn’t even come close to actually hitting it but Oswald flinched anyway, and after he grabbed the checkbook, tried to swat him with it._ _

__Jim let out an unflattering squawk-like sound wings flapping about as he panicked and just barely managed to jump aside to avoid being hit. He immediately felt stupid— it was just a thin checkbook, and probably wouldn’t have hurt. But now he’d given away his position to the imposter and—_ _

__“What’s that?” Jim’s voice asked as Oswald gave the bird the dirtiest look._ _

__“A bird got in,” Oswald said. “I haven’t been able to catch it,” it was a stretch of the truth, considering he hadn’t even tried._ _

__Oh no, oh no, no no _not_ good._ _

__“I’ll get it for you,” the imposter said, far too darkly and then lunged across the room, hands out stretched. Jim put everything he could into his bird escape reflexes, and managed to dodge the attack and flit to the floor._ _

__“Jim!” He heard Oswald shout as he hurried to take shelter beneath the desk.He’d heard a thunk, and when he looked the paperweight was now on the ground. Not-Jim had apparently made an even further mess of Oswald’s desk._ _

__“Don’t worry, I can get it,” the fake Jim assured as he hit his knees. Jim jumped at the sight of him looking under the desk, and hurried to hide behind one of the legs and out of sight._ _

__“It’s obviously injured and can’t fly!” Oswald was shouting at him, and at this moment Jim found himself begging the universe for Oswald to somehow save him, stop him. Jim didn’t know what that thing would do to him if he caught him, but the chance it would kill him to take away the chance of him ever finding a way back to his body was high enough to fear it._ _

__“It should be put out of its misery, then.” Not-Jim said, roughly._ _

__“Are you crazy!?” Jim peaked out from behind the desk leg just in time to watch Oswald kick Jim— not Jim in the knee._ _

__“Owe!” If only birds could laugh.“Get off the floor! Just leave it!” Oswald demanded._ _

__“You shouldn’t have a wild animal in your home—,”_ _

__“Zsasz!” Oswald shouted, and Not-Jim immediately stood, and faced him, raising his hands in surrender._ _

__“All right, I’ll stop. I was just trying to help.”_ _

__Jim watched just their feet, now, as Oswald stood in front of him with his cane at his side._ _

__“To be honest with you, Jim, I’m very tired,” Oswald said. “Perhaps it’s best if you come back another time,” Oswald opened up his wallet as he spoke, pulling out a twenty-dollar bill and mockingly reached out to tuck it in Jim’s jacket._ _

__“Hope that’ll hold you over,” With that he turned, and walked around the desk back toward his chair. Jim looked as if he were going to protest, but as if on cue, Zsasz showed up at the doorway._ _

__“Escort Detective Gordon from the building, would you Victor? And send Ivy up.”_ _

__The little bird under his desk had squirmed its way to the edge, and poked his head out just in time to see the image of Jim’s eyes glaring down, straight at it. It made a tiny squeak, and skittered back under._ _

__“Good-bye Jim, stay in touch,” Oswald’s voice rang out, and Jim looked under the crack of the desk again to see Jim and Zsasz’s feet walking side by side toward the room’s exit. He watched until they were gone, and Zsasz shut the door behind them._ _

__Jim knew he had to follow it, but now it knew he was trailing it and he was more certain than ever that it wanted to kill him. He couldn’t even fly— or he could, but not well, hence the crash landing onto Oswald’s desk.The best option he could think of was to find a way to hide out here, and wait for it to return. If it wanted money, there weren’t many other places it could go. Oswald had expressed a distaste for the idea of killing him, and he’d seemed oddly charmed when Jim first crashed landed and had stepped up onto his finger thanks to some strange built-in bird reflex. More importantly, if he had the time, there might be a way he could convince Oswald he was more than just a bird. He still had a human mind, after all, and there had to be some way to—_ _

__His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the door opening again, followed by heels against wood. He looked toward the door to see it falling shut behind green shoes._ _

__“Ivy,” Oswald greeted. “There’s a sparrow under my desk. I think it might be injured, can you get it out and see that it gets to a care center?”_ _

__There was a pause. “Uh, sure. But I don’t think there are any animal care centers in Gotham…”_ _

__Oswald sighed harshly. “Just catch it first, then!”_ _

__“Okay,” Ivy said, voice not lacking excitement. “Let me get a box!”_ _

__Jim had to think fast as he heard the sound of her footsteps running off to dig up a suitable prison cell. He had to stay here until his body came back, but there was no way he’d get anywhere just on his awkward bird feet, especially with the door shut. She’d catch him eventually even if he struggled, and hell, it would probably hurt.  
He took a deep breath, looking at Oswald’s shoes, puffed up his feathers, and stalked toward them. Once between them, he looked up at Oswald and let out his best attention-getting tweet, to which Oswald immediately responded by looking down with surprise._ _

__Jim squeaked again, not knowing what message he was trying to get across but just hoping there was some way to avoid the box.Oswald looked away from him. “Ivy!” He shouted._ _

___No!_ Jim frustratedly hopped forward and grabbed a beak-full of Oswald’s pant leg, tugging on it._ _

__“What the hell has gotten into this thing?” Oswald grumbled to himself, but Jim was pleased when he bent down with his gloved hands and scooped Jim gently up into them. It was probably just to stop him from pecking holes in his pantleg, but he was careful as he raised Jim up to the desk, and rested his hands on it as Jim had settled within them and peeped in thanks._ _

__What were the chances of Oswald adopting a wild bird just because it seemed to like him? One in a million?_ _

__“Seems like it likes you,” Ivy said, and Jim looked back to see her approaching with The Box. He shrieked and flapped his wings in a panic, managing to get airborne long enough to attach to Oswald’s upper jacket sleeve and climb onto his shoulder. Oswald seemed only mildly freaked out, and froze rather than swatting at him again. Once settled on his shoulder, Jim hissed at Ivy who’d stopped._ _

__“Did it just hiss at me?” Ivy glared._ _

__Oswald heaved a sigh._ _

__“Here,” he put his finger expertly under Jim’s puffed feathery chest, and as if it was some compulsion he couldn’t control, Jim stepped onto it. Oswald started moving him toward Ivy, and Jim immediately realized his mistake and flapped his wings again, flitting back to Oswald’s shoulder where he clung more tightly with his claws._ _

__“He’s gonna ruin your suit,” Ivy commented, and that made Jim nervous until he noticed that Oswald didn’t seem concerned. Glaring at Ivy and her box, he stepped sideways up Oswald’s arm to hide partially behind his face._ _

__“Maybe it’s not injured? Maybe it’s just in love with you,” Ivy suggested, and to Jim’s surprise, Oswald laughed. The same way he had when Jim had first crash-landed._ _

__“It looks okay,” Oswald said, thoughtfully. “But it obviously can’t fly for some reason.”_ _

__“Maybe it’s just stupid?” Ivy offered, and Oswald scoffed while Jim thought about internally objecting until he was forced to admit that yeah, that was pretty much it. As far as birds go, anyway._ _

__A few moments passed during which they were both looking at Jim, and Jim waited hopefully for someone to get rid of the box._ _

__“It’s getting late,” Oswald said. “If there is anywhere to take it, they’re probably closed. Leave the box, and we’ll take care of it tomorrow.”_ _

__o-o-o_ _

__Oswald put Jim in the box._ _

__Jim gave him a hard time at first, flapping so much that a few of his feathers shook free and sprinkled to the ground. Oswald wasn’t even trying to pick him up at the time, Jim was just trying desperately to convey how much he didn’t want to be shut in a box._ _

__He wished he could have assured Oswald he would definitely not poop on anything._ _

__Better yet, he wished he could have told Oswald it was him. But, after about a half-hour of playing tag with that damn box, Oswald adjusted the towels so they formed a small nest. A circular lump with a little hole in the middle, just big enough for Jim to fit in._ _

__And Jim, who’d been up for a day and a half following his body around and observing it, trying to fly but failing and just desperately trying to keep up with a human being with his tiny bird legs…_ _

__…well, he was exhausted._ _

__So he reluctantly let Oswald scoop him up into his hands and place him in the center of the make-shift nest._ _

__“There.” Oswald said, hurrying to pick up the lid which he’d punched more holes in with a pen. “It’s not the worst thing that could happen,” he assured, and started to put the lid on. Jim panicked in protest as he did, but Oswald only hurried to seal it faster._ _

__But unlike a real bird, Jim knew exactly how boxes work._ _

__He put everything he could into a mighty hop, and knocked his head against the ceiling of his prison. It came loose, and he immediately did it again._ _

__“Jeez!” He heard Oswald exclaim before he pressed down on the lid of the shoebox again. Jim peeped angrily at his efforts having been thwarted._ _

__“You’re clever for someone who forgot how to fly.”_ _

__Jim tweeted up a storm again, and once again hopped up so his head hit the top of the box. This time it didn’t budge. He tried it again to no avail._ _

__Oswald must’ve put something on top of it._ _

__Goddamn it! Jim was going to have words with him when he got his body back!_ _

__But for now, he was tired. Quite stuck, but he’d luckily never suffered from claustrophobia and he didn’t feel as if he was in danger. So, after some solid glaring up through the holes in his roof, not really able to see much of anything, he went to sleep.  
o-o-o-o-o_ _

__Jim woke up slowly. So slowly that for a moment he was sure it had all been a dream. A little spazzy sparrow wakes up energetic with a bunch of chirping. It doesn’t lull itself out of a deep sleep, or he never imagined it would until he was blinking awake to the sight of little beams of light shining in through the ceiling.He could hear voices— it was the voices that woke him. Still coming out of the deep sleep he could make out a few works in distorted voices. “euthanize” “think” “center”…_ _

___Euthanize?!_ _ _

__That had definitely been Oswald’s voice.“If you wanted a pet you should have told me!” Ivy was also present. “Or I could have gotten you a plant, maybe a cactus to start— they’re so much better than pets.”_ _

__“I don’t want a pet. Least of all a bird!” Oswald shouted. “I just told you, the wildlife care center said if it’s injured or can’t fly they’re just going to euthanize it if I bring it in. I find that cruel and unnecessary, so I’m just holding onto it until it can fly again.”Jim had just been about to stand when Oswald started talking, but by the time he finished his legs didn’t work because he was a little floored. He was going to owe Oswald big time, and Oswald had no idea._ _

__“She.”_ _

__“What?”_ _

__“It’s a lady sparrow. You can tell by the coloring.” Ivy grinned, speaking like she was proud of herself for having this knowledge. Then her brow furrowed and she looked up thoughtfully. “I don’t know where I learned that…”_ _

__That was enough of that, he was most certainly not a lady sparrow, or any kind of sparrow at all. Jim stood up straight on his stick-like legs, and let out the mightiest, sharpest single tweet he could muster._ _

__“Sounds like she wants out!” Ivy sounded excited, and she also had sounded across the room until Jim heard footsteps clack against the wood floor._ _

__“Don’t scare it!” Oswald shouted. “I need it in the cage before it decides to… use the bathroom so to speak.”_ _

__Jim didn’t have to do anything like that. He hadn’t actually eaten or drank anything since he got this way, and it was that thought that reminded him how hungry and thirsty he was._ _

__Wait, _cage?__ _

__“Bring it over here,” Oswald’s voice again, still from across the room, and then Jim was experiencing some form of earthquake as his entire world started to move and spin, throwing him out of his little make-shift nest for a moment before he was bounced across the room by someone with far too much pep in their step.He could have sworn the last step Ivy took was a hop._ _

__He looked up, and he could see Oswald’s face through the holes now. He didn’t look pleased._ _

__“You can’t shake it like that,” he scolded, and Jim shifted his position just in time to see Ivy’s face sour through a different hole._ _

__“What’s the big deal? It’s just a bird…” she huffed, and he knew she was just a kid but he wasn’t expecting Oswald to be the only one he wanted anything to do with in this state. Even if Oswald had apparently gotten him a cage. He could see the bars behind him. It was large, it looked nice, and had he actually been a bird he was sure it was the best money could buy him. But he was a human being and it was the worst thing he’d ever seen._ _

__So naturally, when the lid started to lift, he flapped his wings as much as he could until he managed to gain some air and stumble out of the box, almost immediately plopping onto the floor. He heard himself peep in pain when his wing bent underneath him, then quickly righted himself and folded it so he could hop away. He’d at least gotten good at folding his wings._ _

__“Get it!” Oswald sounded panicked._ _

__Jim hurried across the floor until he saw a small dark space, the underneath of a dresser or something, and made a run for it. He needed to stay with Oswald until his body came back, yes, but he sure as hell didn’t want to spend it in a cage—_ _

__“Got you!” Ivy’s voice sounded as thin fingers wrapped around his body and lifted him off the ground. They were gentle, and he definitely didn’t want to peck a teenage girl— or… child? So he just started to shriek and jerk his head around. It wasn’t very intimidating, but he kept doing it as she walked him back to Oswald._ _

__“Wash your hands immediately,” Oswald said, scoffing at her bear hands wrapped around it. Jim paused his flailing at that, taking a moment to glare at him. He wasn’t _dirty_ he was a _detective_. Somehow he was going to have to find a way to make Oswald or Ivy aware of that or this was going to go extremely badly._ _

__“You take her then, you have gloves.” Ivy offered Jim up, and Jim was a little preoccupied trying to think up a way to inform them of his true identity to panic. “Look she’s so calm now that you’re here. She likes you so much!”_ _

___What?_ _ _

__Jim looked at Oswald and he could have sworn the guy was blushing about it. Worse, he held out his hands to Ivy as she raised him up, as if he expected a scared little bird would just willingly hop into his hands._ _

__But that’s exactly what Jim did._ _

__“Oooh!” Ivy squealed. “She thinks you’re her dad!”_ _

__No._ _

__Jim tweeted meaningfully at Oswald’s face, trying to convey something intelligent, try and offer some sign that there wasn’t just an animal in here._ _

__Oswald wasn’t saying anything, and Jim was positive by the enamored look on his face that he was letting everything Ivy was saying go to his head. It was a little bit cute._ _

__“Well…” Oswald said, breathing in sharply while looking at him. “At least we’ll get along.” With that he turned swiftly, and thrust his cupped hands into the cage door with Jim in them. Taken off guard, Jim panicked, flapping about again and taking some likeness of flight, but that only allowed Oswald to pull his hands back quickly and then close the cage door as Jim clung to the bars and flapped his wings while chirping at them._ _

__“Isn’t she going to keep you up all night?” Ivy spoke critically._ _

__Oswald didn’t answer, instead he just sucked in a breath while looking at Jim and then shrugged, turning to Ivy._ _

__“Thank you for your assistance, you can go now.” He said, though he didn’t sound that grateful, more like he was shooing her off. Ivy didn’t seem to notice._ _

__“Well… what are you going to name her?” Ivy asked. Jim’s eyes narrowed as he clung to the bars, looking to Oswald. Oswald still called him “It” and Jim would have preferred he stay nameless and genderless in Oswald’s vocabulary so—_ _

__“If it’s a girl, then…” Oswald started, “Her name is Fish.”_ _

__Ivy sputtered a laugh almost immediately._ _

__“A bird named Fish?”_ _

__Oswald glared daggers at her in response. “You’re dismissed.”_ _

__“Seriously, isn’t there anything else you can—,”_ _

__“Get out, Ivy!” Oswald shouted, interrupting her and pointing to the door. She rolled her eyes, scowling, but did as she was told._ _

__There were a lot of reasons Jim didn’t approve of the name, but it was only a few months prior that he had been responsible for his namesake’s death. It gave him pause that Oswald was apparently still mourning. If only Oswald knew who he was naming, he never would have…_ _

__Jim shook the thoughts from his mind. There were more pressing matters. If he didn’t find a way to get his body back soon, whoever was currently inhabiting it would probably find and kill him._ _

__Oswald was walking away, back to his desk, and Jim was about to start chirping up a storm to get his attention, but then a smell called his attention._ _

__He flitted to the bottom of the cage, and then looked up. Above him was a silver, metal square, and something in it smelled like exactly what he needed before anything else._ _

__Food. But he was down here, and it was up there. How the hell was he supposed to get to it? It wasn’t very smart of Oswald to buy a cage that required flight for a bird that couldn’t fly!_ _

__He tweeted with frustration before trying to launch himself off the cage floor and up to the bowl. He made it about half-way before he lost wind and went crashing back down. He righted himself again and glared up at it, then made another attempt. Then another._ _

__“You’re hopeless, aren’t you?” A voice nearly startled him just before he was about to try for a fourth time. Oswald was back by the cage again._ _

__“Here…”_ _

__Jim watched Oswald open the cage door, and for a moment he considered trying to climb the bars and escape. But the food was in here.He’d escape later._ _

__Oswald reached in, and perhaps because Jim knew he was trying to help, he eagerly hopped up onto Oswald’s hand._ _

__“Owe! Talons!” Oswald cringed, and Jim hunched into his wings sheepishly when he realized he’d grabbed on a little too tightly. He tweeted, maybe an apology, and then did it again when Oswald raised him high enough that he could hop to the food._ _

__He was aiming for the edge of the bowl, which looked like a normal bird could stand on and hold onto it. Instead he landed directly in the food, which was… birdseed._ _

__It had smelled a lot more appetizing than birdseed when he’d been on the ground. It still did, too, and despite the confusion at his craving for it, he wasn’t one to argue with his stomach._ _

__“There you go,” Oswald said when he started to peck at it. Jim was definitely embarrassed at being watched like this, and when Oswald found out who he really was this would have been particularly mortifying. But he was hungry. And sunflower seeds tasted so much better than he remembered.  
He heard footsteps getting quieter as he feasted, and at some point looked up to see Oswald had sat back at his desk again. Then he went back to eating._ _

__o-o-o-o_ _

__He didn’t know when he fell asleep. At least, he didn’t know until he looked around, and found himself still inside the pool of birdseed._ _

__Great. Really sanitary._ _

__He hopped up onto his legs and steadied himself— at least he was getting better at walking. Then he froze, because he realized he could hear Oswald talking._ _

__“Today is fine,” he heard Oswald say. “I’m surprised you didn’t change your mind. I was sure yesterday was just a moment of weakness.”_ _

__Jim shifted closer. Could it be?_ _

__“Now?” Oswald questioned, furrowing his brow with what appeared to be confusion before his expression turned to surprise. Whoever was on the other end said something that took him off guard._ _

__“Jim…” he breathed out a name and Jim puffed himself out with rage. He knew he’d be back._ _

__“Okay, well, just…” Oswald was all but tripping on his words. What had that bastard said to him?!_ _

__“Yes, now is fine.” Oswald ceded, releasing a sigh and looking rather defeated. Jim didn’t know why it made him want to kick his own ass, or at least scratch up his own face._ _

__Oswald hung up the phone slowly, staring at it as he did. Jim watched him, the confused, defeated look on his face. He wanted to know what he’d said, what whoever was in his body had made him say. He didn’t think he’d ever managed to make Oswald look like that when he inhabited it. Not with just a phone call._ _

__“Well Fish…” Oswald started, and Jim was sure he was talking to himself in her memory until he looked at the cage, and Jim remembered his name. “That… idiot from yesterday is on his way back.”_ _

__Hey!_ _

__“He didn’t seem to like you very much, so try not to draw too much attention to yourself.”_ _

__Oswald must’ve been genuinely lonely if he was talking to a bird. Or perhaps he was just the kind of man who had conversations with pets. Jim had an ex who was like that. It was cute in a way._ _

__He had to stop thinking things like that._ _

__Especially when he should have been thinking about how he was going to survive this. He was sure Oswald wouldn’t let the imposter hurt his new helpless bird self. But then, it wasn’t like the imposter knew Jim was here. He must’ve wanted to meet for something else— probably once again because he wanted money._ _

__If nothing else, Jim might’ve been able to discern its motivation from what it said when it arrived. Perhaps it wouldn’t notice him at first. The cage did blend in rather tastefully with the rest of the room, and it was a big room. If he was quiet, this could have been perfect._ _

__“Here’s hoping he doesn’t make a mess of the place again…” Oswald grumbled, and Jim watched him stand up, and walk across the room. He didn’t know where he was going. This was his office, and Jim knew he conducted most business here these days._ _

__He watched until Oswald stopped in front of a mirror, and started prodding at his hair, straightened his tie and collar. Oswald took a deep breath, and god, he looked nervous._ _

__What had this guy said to him on the phone?_ _

__Or did Oswald always do this before Jim came to see him? He did always look nice._ _

__It was in that moment that Jim felt he was witnessing something private, and began to feel rather uncomfortable. He stopped looking, but he could hear Oswald sigh at his reflection._ _

__Jim couldn’t wait to get back into his own body._ _


	2. chirp

About twenty minutes later, there his body was. As Oswald straightened his posture at the sound of footsteps, Jim ducked behind the wooden statue of a bird that was in his cage, which seemed pointless other than the fact that he’d been pecking at it earlier to pass the time.His body walked in, and this time it wasn’t dressed for work. It had on his leather jacket, and…

Jim gawked at the sight of some really, really old jeans that were too tight but he just hadn’t gotten around to throwing out yet.

“Well, well!” Oswald stood at his entrance. “Taking up bounty hunting again, are we? You really are strapped for cash…”

Jim wanted to laugh at Oswald blatantly making fun of the stupid garb, until he remembered he’d been wearing something similar about a year ago. Still, at least now Oswald’s jibes were directed at the asshole who stole his body, and now also his favorite boots that he rarely wore.

“I’ve been thinking…” His body’s voice was calm, didn’t seem bothered by the snide remarks as it stood still about halfway into the room.

“Well that’s a first…” Oswald mumbled, rolling his eyes, and the imposter had the nerve to laugh.

“I guess I deserve that…” Fake Jim spoke softly, shrugging as he took a few steps closer.

Bird Jim watched Oswald’s eyes soften, and it was at that moment that he started internally panicking.

o-o-o

Oswald braced his hands on the desk in front of him because for some reason they were shaking.

“I’m sorry about yesterday.” Jim said, and Oswald was finding it hard to keep his guard up. The things Jim had said to him on the phone… it was clear something had happened to him. Something had changed, at least temporarily. Oswald knew he was still the same man, but… he wanted to know what it was.

“No hard feelings,” Oswald shrugged. “Not from me, anyway. You’ll have to apologize to her separately,” he gestured toward the cage that housed the bird Jim had harassed the day before. It shrieked, seemingly in response.

“Sounds like she doesn’t forgive you…” Oswald said, humorously, but then blinked as he watched Jim stare at the cage far too long with wide eyes. It was certainly odd. Everything about him seemed odd these past few days. Though, aside from ransacking his office trying to murder a bird, it wasn’t exactly bad.

“You kept it?” Jim said, turning back to him.

Oswald merely shrugged in response, not feeling that the question warranted a real answer, or expecting that Jim actually cared to hear one. If he was just being polite, he was astoundingly terrible at it.

“Now, Jim,” Oswald decided to change the subject. “What was it you wanted from me?”

Jim seemed to take a moment to find the answer to that question, glancing at the bird cage just one more time before scratching at his neck and facing Oswald with honesty in his eyes.

“I didn’t want money yesterday…” he said, carefully. “The truth is…” Jim paused, like his words got stuck on his tongue. Oswald was mesmerized as he waited. Something was so off, but he couldn’t bring himself to question it further. He just wanted Jim to continue.

“…the truth is I just wanted to see you.” Jim said, his voice almost disappearing beneath a whisper by the end.

“What?” Oswald questioned. He wanted more, more of an explanation, and more of Jim looking defeated while standing weakly in the center of his office. There was something so wrong, so foreign about this, but he wanted it.

“I… wanted to apologize, I know that I…” Jim stopped. “…I killed Fish Mooney right in front of you. I haven’t felt right about it and I—,”

“Stop.” Oswald interrupted, holding up his hand.

Jim did.

“What you did to Fish is barely the tip of the iceberg when it comes to ways you’ve hurt me, Jim Gordon,” Oswald stepped out from behind his desk. “Believe me when I say that if I still truly held a grudge, you’d be dead already.”

Oswald expected Jim to go on the offense, but he stayed still, his posture not changing from something entirely submissive and apologetic.

“That, or I’d go after someone you love,” Oswald tried again. “But… seems like there’s no one left out there that really fits that description, is there?” He laughed, but it was hard to keep up the facade when Jim didn’t look put-off, or defensive at all. He kept looking at Oswald with those soft eyes, opening his mouth like words were stuck on his tongue.

Alarms were going off in Oswald’s head but he was too intrigued to listen to them.

“There is,” Jim said, so softly that Oswald almost didn’t hear it, and then he took a step closer.

Finally, Oswald was speechless.

_‘I need you.’_

That’s what he’d said on the phone, and now the words were coming back to Oswald.

Jim was getting closer. Small, slow, careful steps. Like he didn’t know Jim Gordon was capable of being, something about his aura felt so gentle, so unlike him. Oswald didn’t know how to fight that, and he found himself backing away as Jim came closer, backing up all the way until his lower back bumped softly into the desk.

He jumped a little at the contact, and glance back at it, but then he froze because Jim’s hand was touching his face. Just the backs of his fingers, gently brushing over his cheek.

“Oswald…” Jim whispered his name, and as if it were her job to have the worst timing in the world, the little bird across the room started shrieking violently in ways Oswald didn’t know sparrows were capable of.

Oswald closed his eyes, breathing in deeply to find strength.

“Oswald,” Jim said his name again, and Oswald’s eyes popped open. Jim didn’t seem bothered by the sounds his new pet was making. In fact, it was like he wasn’t hearing it at all.

“I know this will take time. For both of us…” Jim said, and his words drown out the shrieks as Oswald started to get lost in those soft eyes. “…but I want to make it up to you. All of it.”

A clatter of jangling metal drew Oswald’s attention, and his eyes shifted to look at the bird, which was now clinging to and biting at the bars.

“Oswald,” Jim raised his hand to Oswald’s cheek, calling his attention back. Oswald’s eyes shifted back to his, feeling Jim moving closer, and that was the moment when he found himself utterly defeated. He licked his lips, felt Jim’s hand come to rest on his waist.

“Jim, I…” he didn’t know about words, he wanted Jim to kiss him. Jim loved to make everything complicated, loved to get hung up on right and wrong and history and sometimes that was Oswald too but now…

o-o-o

“Jim, I…” Oswald’s voice was so weak, and the real Jim, the one locked in a cage, suddenly found himself unable to continue screaming. Instead he was watching.

“Oswald, please,” He heard his own voice speaking softly, and he watched Oswald seem to melt at the sound of it. Anger bubbled up inside him, but not enough that he could start shrieking again. Instead all he could do was shout the words internally, staring across the room, desperate for Oswald to somehow hear him.

_No, no! That isn’t me! I’m over here!_

“Forgive me for all I’ve done. I’m so sorry…”

Jim watched his thumb touch the corner of Oswald’s lips as Oswald stared up at him in what Jim could only describe as awe. His wings started to flap, a response to how distraught he was if nothing else. How did Oswald not see through it?

“I don’t know…” Oswald looked down, his posture becoming a little more closed off. “You’ve been acting so strangely, and I—,”

 _Yes! Yes, let’s talk more about that!_ Bird Jim encouraged, finally finding some hope.

“—this is so sudden.” Oswald finished.

“Is it?” Not Jim reached out slowly and took Oswald’s hands in his own. Jim wanted to start screaming again, it was too much.

Not Jim raised Oswald’s hands to his chest, pressing his palms against it. Jim watched Oswald’s eyes flutter shut and his mouth fall open, watched his own hands release Oswald’s to their own devices. Those hands slid across his chest, and then down his sides, thumbs rubbing in little circles on his stomach. Oswald was watching his own hands take what they wanted speechlessly and through wide eyes.

Oh, that _bastard._

He was totally falling for it!

“There,” Fake Jim smiled down at Oswald as Oswald’s hands came to rest on his waist. “Not so sudden, is it?”

Oswald looked down at Jim’s shoes, and Jim watched him lick his lips.

“I suppose not…” he admitted, and for the first time since all this started, the little bird in the cage was quiet and still. He just watched.

Why was it so easy for him to manipulate Oswald like this? How was Oswald not noticing how off it was?

Jim couldn’t stand seeing that look on his own profile, the way he looked at Oswald… Jim could hardly blame the man for giving in, being weakened by it. He didn’t know he could make a face like that.

It appeared so sincere, and for a moment, Jim couldn’t move. He found himself spiraling down a whirlpool of uncomfortable thoughts as he looked at Oswald’s eyes. There was longing in them, there was trust in them, there was so much feeling and Jim never let himself look at that face for long before now. Not when he was human, not when he could have reached out and touched his lips or kissed them.

Oswald hadn’t allowed himself to look so vulnerable to him since shortly after they first met. Not for more than a moment.

It was because it wasn’t really him.

A voice inside Jim spoke, and he couldn’t shut it up. Whoever was inhabiting his body was kinder, gentler, and Jim couldn’t stop it when he started to shrink in on himself. He told himself didn’t care about Oswald, he didn’t want to, but seeing someone make him look like that again… Someone who seemed to somehow genuinely care about him, and wasn’t afraid to show it…

…maybe it was better if he never got his body back at all.

“I need some time,” Oswald finally said, meeting his eyes when he spoke, and nodding as if he fully expected Jim to understand.

“…Of course.” Jim said back.

Oswald’s hands fell to his sides. “Please go. I’ll call you…” Oswald paused, taking a deep breath, “…I’ll call you when I’ve thought things through.”

“What?”

There it was.

Jim watched his own brow furrow, his own nose crinkle, as if those words had completely destroyed the facade. Clearly, he’d been expecting a more immediate reaction.

“Please, Jim…” Oswald continued. The look on his own face across the room soured even more, and Jim started flapping his wings again. It was an act, whoever was in there definitely didn’t actually care about him. That meant they wanted something.

“Can’t we talk things over tonight? There’s something I want to show you…” Jim raised his hand to Oswald’s upper arm. Oswald shrugged out of it and took a step back.

“Maybe another time.”

“You’ll really like it, I promise!” A stepped forward to undo Oswald’s step back.

“I told you, I need time,” Oswald was becoming more aggressive now.

“But—,” The hand on his upper arm squeezed just a little too tightly to feel safe, and Oswald jerked away from it.

“I mean it, Jim!” He shouted, pushing him off. “I’ll think about what you said but you can’t force this!”

Not Jim seemed to realize his mistake, and backed off immediately.

“Fine.” He said, unable to mask the distaste in his tone now. He was a good actor, but now he’d very clearly stopped trying. Across the room in his cage, the real Jim gained new resolve. Now he had to get his body back for Oswald’s sake, too.

“I’ll go,” he said, not quite spitting the words but voice sounding far from as soft as it had five minutes ago.

With that, he all but stormed out of the room.

Jim watched him until he was out of sight, and then turned back to look at Oswald just in time to see him collapse back against his desk.

“He’s completely insane,” Oswald sighed out.

Still clinging to the bars with his feet, Jim let out a short, sharp attention-getting tweet. Oswald looked at him.

“You haven’t forgiven him either, huh?” Oswald said, then laughed at himself. “At least I’m not alone.”

Jim tweeted again as if to respond, not sure what else to do but certain that he wanted to hold Oswald’s attention. He wanted out of the cage, and maybe if he could give Oswald a bit of “conversation”…

Given his title, Oswald really should have learned to speak bird.

“This all started when you showed up,” Oswald approached the cage with a sigh, looking in at him. “Just what kind of bird are you?”

_The not-a-bird kind._

Taking a chance, Jim carefully climbed a few intersecting bars down, and pecked at the lever that opened the cage. By the look of it, with some effort, he probably could have opened it from the inside. But he didn’t want to, he wanted to be let out, and that way he wouldn’t immediately be put back in.

“If that’s your way of telling me you want out you must be the smart kind,” Oswald mumbled, watching him.

Then he sighed.

“I guess it can’t hurt,” he reached for the door handle, and Jim moved away as Oswald pulled it open. Immediately, Jim flapped through the exit and plopped to the ground. Finally! Now he could get somewhere.

“Careful!” Oswald gasped. Jim hadn’t hurt himself at all during the fall but Oswald was apparently a worry wart. Jim got about two steps toward the desk before Oswald kneeled down next to him, and offered for Jim to hop into his hands.

For a moment Jim was once again confused as to why Oswald thought he would do that, but then he remembered he had every other time. He considered it for a moment, and then took a few small steps until he was in Oswald’s hands, and sat in them.

“You really do trust me,” Oswald’s smile was brilliant, and Jim couldn’t help thinking that he was going to be disappointed when he found out Jim wasn’t really a bird. It would take a lot more to earn a real bird’s trust— though, maybe not one from a pet store.

Oswald carried Jim over to his desk, and Jim was pleased because that was exactly where he wanted to be. He waited patiently until Oswald set him down, and then immediately hopped across to a stack of mail and took hold of one with his beak, shoving it off the stack.

Oswald merely snorted. “I guess I should expect you to make a mess,” he tried to put the paper back but Jim then jumped on the stack.

He looked at the words on the paper, listening to Oswald sigh behind him.

“None of that’s important if you’re hoping to sabotage me.” He heard Oswald sit down in his chair— actually it sounded more like he fell into it.

Jim pulled another sheet off, shaking his head so it fluttered to some other place on the desk.

Oswald was quiet for a long time, and Jim kept shoving the papers around, looking for certain words that could convey the things he needed to say. Finally, he found the perfect thing. It was a letter concerning the detective assigned to the case of a missing person— Edward Nygma. The case itself was solved when Ed revealed himself with a new alias, then reopened again after the Tetch outbreak, then solved again when Oswald revealed Ed to be encased in ice in his club. Apparently they were still sending Oswald inquiries, and Jim knew his name would be in the footnotes as a reference.

He found it quickly and easily, took it in his beak and dragged it over to where Oswald was sitting thoughtfully, looking off at the wall.

Jim chirped at him, and Oswald’s eyes flicked to give him their attention. Careful about his aim, Jim pecked at the name.

He looked up at Oswald after, and Oswald didn’t seem moved for a moment. Then he looked at the text, and Jim pecked at his own name again.

“…what the hell?” Oswald questioned, brow crinkling as he leaned forward.

Jim pecked his name again, this time the first name ‘James’ and then the last name ‘Gordon.’

Oswald just stared for a few moments, and Jim waited, giving him time to process it.

o-o-o

“That’s so ironic… you…” Oswald spoke, then cut himself off. “He was just here and now a bird is…” he stopped again, sighing and shaking his head.

“This is ridiculous.”

The little bird chirped up at Oswald, and Oswald stared down at it with curiosity. It couldn’t possibly know the name of the man who was just here, let alone be able to read it off a piece of paper. Unless…

…It was Gotham, after all. A highly intelligent animal wouldn’t have been the most outlandish thing to ever happen here.

Taking a deep breath, Oswald decided to humor himself.

“Okay,” he said to the bird. “What about James Gordon?”

His eyes widened when the little sparrow immediately hopped to it and went back for the stack of mail, peeling through it as if looking to find some way to answer the question.

It didn’t take long for him to find something and drag it over to Oswald like he had the first piece. Oswald stared in disbelief as the bird pecked at the word “present” on the paper.

“He’s present?”

o-o-o

Jim became frustrated. It wasn’t the best word, but none of the mail was in first person, it was all too formal. He couldn’t find the words “me” or “I” anywhere.

“He’s not anymore,” Oswald kept talking, and Jim was having a hard time concentrating as he combed through the mail for more helpful text. “At least he’d better not be…” Oswald mumbled.

If birds could roll their eyes Jim would have.

“…I don’t know what’s gotten into him. It’s not that I…” Oswald stopped, sighing, and now he was distracting Jim for a different reason.

“I never thought he…” he sucked in a breath, and Jim found himself unable to focus on his search. He was listening too closely to hear what Oswald was about to say. “I never thought he felt that way but… crazier things have happened. It could be possible, don’t you think?”

Jim’s eyes fell upon the word yes on a piece of mail in front of him, but chose not to share it. The person Oswald was talking about right now wasn’t actually him, and that was the most important thing right now.

“Relationships with the people around you are always complicated in Gotham,” Oswald said to himself. “It would be a shame to not at least see where it goes…” he laughed at himself like he was crazy. Since he was talking to a bird that he was yet to discover was actually human, Jim would have said he wasn’t far off.

Jim turned around to some of the mail he’d already looked through because there was a different word he needed now, and he’d seen it earlier.

He found it and tweeted to get Oswald’s attention. Oswald looked down at him, and Jim pecked the word. It was in the middle of a paragraph, so he did it a few times to make sure Oswald read the right one.

“Using?” Oswald said the word. In the context of the sentence it was about drug use, but Jim saw another word conveniently on a piece a few steps away. He pecked the word “using” once more, and then hopped over to peck another one.

“Using you?” Oswald read both words out loud. “He’s using me? What for?”

One of the pieces of mail Jim had been using was conveniently a bill. Jim didn’t know for sure what the thing in his body wanted, but he had a pretty good idea. He side-stepped and pecked at the dollar sign next to it repeatedly.

“Money…” it wasn’t a question this time. Oswald thought about it, then shook his head. “Jim wouldn’t do that.”

Jim appreciated the confidence but that brought him back to the most important point of all, one he couldn’t find the right words to explain it. But wait…

He found the page with his name on it again, and it only took him a moment to find the word “not” in one of the paragraphs. He pecked at it, glad Oswald was still watching with interest, and then immediately pecked the name “Gordon” on the first page.

“Not Gordon?”

Oswald’s eyes widened. He opened his mouth but words failed him for a few moments.

“You might be right…” he said, finally. Jim chirped loudly, trying to convey that he had it on good authority that he absolutely undoubtedly was right.

“There’s that clayface, and… who knows what else Hugo Strange has been up to…”

No! Overwhelmed with frustration, Jim started peeping up a storm and flapping his wings again, maybe just to get Oswald’s attention.

Oswald blinked at him, though Jim didn’t know what the hell was going through his head. How did he not put it together yet?

“I have an idea!” Oswald exclaimed rather suddenly, shooting up from his seat and startling Jim so that he stopped flailing. “Follow me!” He waved at the bird, and Jim panicked at how quickly Oswald rushed out of the room. How the hell was he supposed to keep up with his tiny legs?

Oswald reappeared seconds later, and Jim chirped in an attempt to scold him.

“Sorry,” Oswald said quickly, leaning over and holding his finger under Jim’s chest. Jim stepped onto it, and then Oswald was rushing for the door again.

Oswald hurried him down the hall until he pushed open a slightly offset door, revealing a very clean and femininely decorated bedroom. It couldn’t have been Ivy’s, if she even lived here. It looked like it belonged to an old woman.

“My mother owned a type-writer with huge keys…” Oswald said, bring Jim to a desk. It was one of those older desks with a curved door on top so it could be opened and closed. Oswald set Jim down on the top portion of it, and opened the desk to reveal the type writer.

It already had paper in it, and Jim watched as Oswald adjusted some levers and clicked some parts Jim wasn’t completely familiar with until he was able to type in a few letters.

“There!” Oswald said, testing it by typing a few a’s onto the sheet of paper. “If you really can read…” Oswald put his finger out for Jim to climb onto again, and Jim did. “…use this.” He set Jim in front of the keys, and Jim immediately went for the “I” button.

He heard Oswald mumble something like “this is crazy” as he hopped off it. Oswald hit the button that moved the ink target one letter over, and Jim immediately hopped to the “M”

There was no space, but in 5 letters, Jim had successfully typed “imjim”

“Imjim?” Oswald read, squinting. “Im jim…” he tried, “I’m Jim?”

Jim chirped.

Oswald looked at him.

“You…” he stared.

“…you’re Jim?” his mouth ran dry.

Jim did his best bird impression of a nod, which was kind of a bop of his head. But it seemed to get the point across.

“And you saw…” Oswald’s mouth quivered as his words trailed off again. “…and I was…”

Jim puffed his feathers in annoyance and turned back to the type writer. It took some time, but typing was easier than flying and this time he moved the ink target himself, until he was able to spell out the words “not important.”

Oswald was still having some kind of emotional breakdown, so Jim chirped at him to get his attention.

“Not important?!” Oswald barked. “Of course my being embarrassed to the point of mortification isn’t important to you!”

Wishing he could growl Jim hopped up onto the keys again.

_“im a bird!!!”_

He typed, complete with all three exclamation marks.

“Well, I guess that is a bit more dire…” Oswald admitted, then took a deep breath. “Jim, listen… about all that between us, and the things I said about you…” his face was beat red and he sounded as if he was almost in hysterics.

Jim shrieked once to interrupt him and climbed the keys to get to the page so he could peck at the words “not important.”

Oswald closed his mouth at the reiteration. Jim then hopped back to the keys.

_“i need help”_

_“please”_

“Okay…” Oswald swallowed hard. “What do you need me to do? What can I do?”

_“find out who”_

“Who?” Oswald question. “Who stole your body, you mean? Who turned you into a bird?”

Jim nodded again.

“Why me? Why come to me, isn’t there anyone better suited? What about all those detectives you work with.”

Frustrated again, and thinking Oswald definitely didn’t appreciate how difficult it was for him to make words, Jim got back to typing. This time he decided to go all in and just pump out a sentence.

_“i followed him here. u r already involved. he needs u 4 something.”_

“Money…” Oswald considered thoughtfully. “Why did he do all that… touchy stuff?” Oswald shuddered. “Why didn’t he just ask for it like he did the first time?” He felt more and more violated the more he thought about it. A need for some brand of vengeance was definitely on the table.

_“don’t know. call him.”_

“Who? Jim?” Oswald questioned, and Jim hissed at him. “I mean not Jim…” he corrected.

_“pretend u want him.”_

“Want?” Oswald questioned weakly. Jim looked at him pointedly, hoping his black bird eyes could still portray a look of ‘you know what I mean.’

“Jim, I don’t know if I…” Oswald protested, and Jim chirped, though he was desperately trying to say the word ‘please.’ He realized his mistake immediately and climbed the keys again, pecking at the paper where the word ‘please’ was.

Oswald released a grunt of frustration. “Okay, okay!” He snapped. “But only because this is seriously weirding me out! Especially that other version of you, how did he know I…”

Oswald stopped, some realization coming to him.

“He knew you killed Fish…” Oswald’s brow furrowed. “Not many people know about that, right? You certainly didn’t advertise it. How many people could have known?”

Jim had considered that as relevant, but until that moment he didn’t know if Oswald went around telling people who was responsible. Now he knew he didn’t, so that meant it had to be someone who was there, or someone connected to one of them. Hugo Strange was certainly the first name that came to mind— and he was definitely the only person Jim would have considered as being able to do something like this. But that didn’t tell Jim who was currently occupying his body.

Jim didn’t bother bringing up the fact that it was odd that whoever it was knew to come onto Oswald. How did they know Oswald was gay? How could they assume he’d be swayed by Jim in that way? Not even Jim himself would have thought it would come so easily.

It was certainly someone close to Oswald, or at least someone who knew him well. If Jim had more time, he would have explained that and Oswald would understand that he had to help him.

“Okay,” Oswald said, as if having reached some resolve. “But I think there’s someone else we should call first.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i want you to know how much i regret the unholy amount of italics i've put in this story
> 
> i probably missed coding some of them.... i hope not. thanks for reading!


	3. court

It took a lot for Jim to agree to allow Oswald to call Harvey. Jim’s way of disagreeing was to peck at Oswald’s hand every time he reached for the phone until Oswald gave him a good enough reason to allow it.

Oswald perhaps partially understood why Jim wouldn’t want most people to know this ever happened, but Jim was a bird, and they needed someone still in a human body that had access to police resources. Certainly there was no one else Jim would prefer, Oswald was sure of it.

So finally, Jim gave in, and didn’t attack Oswald’s hand as it reached to pick up the phone.

“Y’ello?” Harvey’s voice came through the receiver, and for a moment Oswald hesitated because he had no clue how he was going to explain this.

“Harvey Bullock? This is Oswald Cobblepot,” he said, maybe just using full names to buy himself some time to think through what the hell he was going to say.

“Oswald?” Harvey said, as patronizingly as ever.

“Listen, Bullock. I need you to meet me at my club. It’s important.”

Oswald hoped that would be enough, but then again he doubted it. His doubts worsened when he looked to Jim and found those tiny bird eyes appearing somewhat disapproving.

“Hm…” Harvey hummed though the phone. “Look, I thought about it, and I got my own problems right now. Bye!”

“Is Jim there?” Oswald asked before he could hang up, and the little sparrow on his desk cocked his head. Harvey didn’t answer right away. “He’s not, is he? Don’t you want to know where he is?”

“What the hell did you do to him Cobblepot?!” Harvey’s voice boomed, so much so that Oswald had to pull the phone away from his ear as he rolled his eyes.

“I didn’t do anything!” Oswald shouted back. “But he’s been acting strangely, hasn’t he? If you want to find out why, I suggest you meet me here!”

Harvey was silent for a while, so long in fact that Oswald was almost certain he’d hung up.

“…He has been acting weird, but I know he’s safe. I saw him at home just a few hours ago.”

“Trust me, Harvey, it is far more complicated than you think. How many times has Jim called in sick to work before now?”

“Possibly… none?” Harvey said, and then sighed. “Fine, I’ll come. But this had better be good, and you better fix whatever’s eating him.”

“Nothing’s eating him yet,” Oswald promised, and Harvey didn’t say anything else before his end cut off. Oswald huffed at the receiver, and then looked to Jim, who he was pretty sure was glaring at him.

“I just meant you’re tiny! It’s a miracle you made it this far without being eaten, especially when you can’t fly.” Oswald explained.

Jim took his point, bending his legs to sit down as the thought came over him for the first time. He’d been so concerned with not being seen by his bodysnatcher that he hadn’t even thought of that. It was a good thing he’d decided to stay with Oswald.

“It must’ve been exhausting,” Oswald seemed to be attempting to sympathize, but Jim couldn’t say anything back so he just slouched his posture and became a ball of feathers on Oswald’s desk.

“I have an idea that might help you communicate a little easier before he gets here,” Oswald said with some excitement, and Jim strained just to turn his head to look at him.

At least someone was having a good time.

o-o-o-o

“He’s late,” Oswald sighed, looking at his watch. “Do you think he’s still coming?”

In front of Jim on the desk were five index cards with large phrases written on them.

‘Yes’, ‘No’, ‘Maybe’, ‘Probably’, ‘I don’t know’

Jim stepped one foot on the ‘probably’ card before drawing it back and looking up to Oswald to make sure he’d seen it.

“I guess that’s the best you can do with Harvey…” Oswald trailed off to the sound of footsteps in the hall. One of his men leaned into sight and announced that Harvey Bullock was here to see him.

“Send him in,” Oswald said, sharing a look with Jim. He didn’t know what nervousness looked like in a bird until that moment.

Oswald didn’t get a chance to come up with something reassuring before Harvey appeared in the doorway. Or more, waltzed into Oswald’s office like he owned the place.

“Harvey,” Oswald greeted.

“What’s going on with Jim?” Harvey clearly wasn’t in the mood for pleasantries.

Oswald took a deep breath as Harvey walked further into the room, bracing his hands on the desk. Harvey looked down and furrowed his brow at the realistic-looking sparrow ornament surrounded by index cards. It tilted its head and he jumped.

“It’s real!” Harvey pointed. Oswald rolled his eyes.

“You adopting pet birds to go with your birdsona?” Harvey suggested, backing away just a little.

“Birdso—? What?” Oswald scoffed, shaking his head. “I’m going to get straight to the point. This is Jim.”

Oswald presented the sparrow, and it tweeted as if on cue.

Harvey would never have considered Oswald Cobblepot an example of sanity, but now he’d really gone off the deep end.

“Uh-huh…”

“It’s true!” Oswald said. “Or at least… it’s most likely true…”

Jim turned to him in question.

“Ask it something only Jim would know,” Oswald said to Harvey, who was still looking at him like he’d grown another head.

“You’re joking…” Harvey’s eyes moved between them.

“Humor me,” Oswald pressed.

Harvey stared at them, and then released what sounded like a giggle before putting the back of his hand against his mouth.

“This is ridiculous,” he said behind a laugh, but he seemed to be playing along so Oswald just waited.

“Uh, okay…” Harvey considered, stroking his beard. “When you had the virus, what did I put the antidote in at the train station for you and Lee?”

Jim tweeted with excitement because he knew the answer immediately, and hopped across the desk to the type-writer that Oswald had moved for him. Oswald crossed his arms smugly as Harvey’s eyes shifted up to him.

“You trained your bird to type…” Harvey said as Jim successfully printed the letter ‘b.’ His eyes widened when the next letter was ‘a’, then even further at ‘d’. He stared in what may have been awe until the ‘g’ and the ‘e’ came out, then his eyes shifted to Oswald.

“Told you,” Oswald said like a sarcastic kid on a playground.

“Okay, okay!” Harvey seemed slightly panicked. “Just one more because this is insane… what mean thing did you call me when we first met?”

Jim hissed and puffed his feathers because he remembered but it was long and it was going to take him a long time to type it. Still, there was no way Harvey wouldn’t believe it was him, so he got to work.

Harvey stared silently as Jim typed the whole thing out. Somewhere midway through the first word Jim found satisfaction in it, as if he were calling Harvey it again.

Almost a full two minutes went by before he finished, and on the page were the words ‘a slovenly lackadaisical cynic.’

Oswald sputtered out laughter as he read it. “He was right,” he nodded.

Jim puffed out his feathered chest proudly.

Harvey stared with his hand over his for a few more moments, then his eyes shifted from the words on the page to the little bird that had typed them.

“Jim…?” There was still lack of certainty in his tone.

The bird chirped, lowered its head once as if to nod ‘yes’.

“What happened to you?” Harvey asked, weakly, feeling helpless at the sight of it.

“That’s what you’re here to help figure out,” Oswald chimed in.

Harvey’s eyes shifted up to him with a scowl. “How do I know you’re not behind this?”

Oswald rolled his eyes. “Why would I turn Jim into a bird?”

“You turned Nygma into a block of ice! Who knows why you do anything!”

Jim tweeted loudly in Harvey’s direction, and Harvey looked down at him.

“What? You don’t think it was him?” Harvey asked with frustration.

Jim hopped across the desk to his notecards and jumped on the one that said ‘No’ repeatedly. Oswald looked looked at Harvey with a smug grin.

“Wait… if Jim’s in there… who the hell is in his body? A fucking sparrow?”

“We don’t know, but… probably not. He seems to be smarter and more ambitious than I’d expect a bird to be…” Oswald said, thoughtfully.

Harvey nodded. “Yeah well, I said the same thing about you…” he grumbled.

Oswald scoffed and slammed his hands down on the desk. “I’m trying to help! You can’t have just a little bit of respect?”

“Why are you trying to help? What’s your angle? How did you figure out that was Jim in there to begin with?”

“Oh my god, Jim was right, we never should have called you…”

“What the hell does that mean?!”

Both of them were cut off from their shouting battle when Jim started flapping his wings and shrieking just go get them to shut the hell up. They did, both looking down at him as he fluttered to land next to Harvey’s hand, and pecked it once.

“Owe!” Harvey jerked his hand away.

Jim glared up at him.

“Why are you mad at me?!” Harvey fought the urge to swat the bird away, having to repeatedly remind himself that it was his partner in there.

“We have to work together on this. I’m helping because whoever has control of Jim’s body right now tried to manipulate me.” Oswald explained, and Jim hopped to the ‘yes’ index card to emphasize what he was saying.

“I can’t believe you’re on his side…” Harvey huffed, and Jim just started chirping at him as if he was lecturing him in bird language.

“Okay, okay!” Harvey ceded, raising his hands up in defense against the onslaught of tweeting. “So what the hell do you need me for, anyway?”

Oswald sighed too, letting his rage dissipate as best he could before he spoke. “Before we go after whoever is in Jim’s body I think we should find out how it got Jim out of it in the first place. I mean, a lot of weird things happen in Gotham, but this seems like a particular brand of weird, so…”

“Wait…” Harvey interrupted him, and Oswald looked to him with curiosity. Jim did too, because Harvey had that look on his face like he was about to remember something game-changing.

“…About four years ago a squirrel opened a safety deposit box and ran off with fifty-thousand dollars, and we never got it back. There was security footage and everything, and this squirrel seemed to know the combination, how to open it—,”

“That squirrel was actually a person?”

“Later on we arrested a guy for it— we never found the squirrel but he confessed he trained the squirrel to do it for him. But before we found him one of the leads was this weird lady who thought she was a witch, claimed she could put people into animal’s bodies…”

“He went to see her?” Oswald questioned, increasingly intrigued.

“Yeah, yeah he did. No one could connect her to the crime obviously, and he didn’t sell her out, but…” Harvey nodded as if it was all coming together.

“Can you figure out where she is now?”

“If I pull the case file, maybe.”

Jim peeped with satisfaction, especially glad now that Oswald had decided to call Harvey. Maybe this would be over sooner than he expected.

“But wait, if she put Jim into a bird, and then someone else into Jim, we should find out who that someone is…”

“We’re working on it,” Oswald said, vaguely. “Like I said, he’s been trying to manipulate me, and he doesn’t know I know he’s not Jim. So I’m going to see if I can get him to talk.”

“Well why Jim?” Harvey questioned, and Oswald was starting to not like where the conversation was going. “If this guy wants something from you why would he take Jim’s body? It’s not like you two are close.”

Jim looked at Oswald in time to see Oswald’s eyes shift down.

“You said he tried to manipulate you. How?”

“Is this really important?” Oswald took a deep breath.

“It could be. I can’t think of any way I could use Jim’s identity to trick you into something, especially after he killed Fish, so maybe it’s good at what it does? Maybe we can get an occupation, or a history?”

Oswald shook his head. “I don’t think that will have anything to do with it…” his eyes shifted to Jim, who was watching him. He could feel his face getting hot with embarrassment again and he was sure it was turning pink.

Harvey had been quiet for a moment, studying Oswald, and Oswald was too distracted by the fact that Jim was looking at him as they both relived Fake Jim’s attempt at coming onto him to notice until…

“What did he do, seduce you?” Harvey said it like he was making a joke, but Oswald felt his cheeks flare up and he looked Harvey in the eye, opening his mouth to deny it, but nothing came out.

“Oh…” Harvey clicked his tongue, nodding. “Guess that would work.”

“Harvey!” Oswald slammed his fist down on the table. “Get the case file!”

“On it!” Harvey saluted with some amusement before he turned away from the desk. He took a few steps to the door before stopping, and looking back.

“You staying here?” He addressed the little bird on the desk.

Jim took a moment to think about it, and then simply chirped, hoping Harvey would understand it was a ‘yes.’ He certainly didn’t want to leave Oswald alone with his bodysnatcher. That could end badly if it realized Oswald knew it wasn’t him.

“Suit yourself,” Harvey waved half-heartedly, and then he was gone.

Oswald sighed harshly after he disappeared.

“Don’t interrupt with bird noises because I need to say this,” he started, and from the corner of his eye he saw Jim’s head turn to look at him. Only the corner because his eyes were fixed on the desk. “I don’t get a lot of romantic attention or… anything. The last person I confessed any of those sorts of feelings to rejected me… violently, and it…”

Oswald closed his eyes tightly.

“It wasn’t that it was you,” Oswald said. “I know it’s pathetic, but it could have been anyone…”

A million thoughts went through Jim’s head in the small amount of time Oswald allowed him. None of them were relief, but one was questioning whether Oswald was only saying it to give him relief. Instead Jim just had to ask himself: _Why did it choose me to get to you? Why not someone closer?_

Even if he could speak, he didn’t know if he’d say these things out loud. Perhaps it was better if he allowed Oswald to believe he believed him. And hell, after all they’d been through, maybe Oswald was telling the truth. Why would Oswald still have feelings for Jim, after all he’d done?

The most unexpected feeling was the deep disappointment he felt in his gut, almost as if he’d been rejected. Funny how birds could feel that too.

“I just needed you to know that so I can stop feeling weird about it.”

Jim walked slowly to his index cards, and stepped on the one that said ‘yes’ and hoped it was enough to express that he was accepting Oswald’s explanation. Oswald looked at him, and smiled. It looked like there was pain behind it.

“Now…” Oswald said, shimmying his shoulders as if to shake if off. “I suppose it’s time I gave you a call.”

Jim peeped.

o-o-o

Oswald looked nervous, and Jim only hoped he didn’t look as nervous as Oswald apparently was. Nerves were hard to read on birds, weren’t they?

The thing was, Jim was almost certain that there was absolutely no way in hell that Oswald knew how to properly flirt. If he didn’t do this right, if he tried it on wrong, if that thing suspected even for a moment that he knew it wasn’t really Jim their best chance at a lead was finished.

Oswald already had the phone in his hand though.

Jim chirped once to get his attention just before Oswald’s thumb would have hit the speed dial. Oswald looked to him in question, and Jim immediately hopped to the type-writer. He was getting better at it, and it only took him a moment to type the word _‘wait.’_

“Why?” Oswald asked, deflating, as if he’d pumped himself up for it.

“Be urself.” Jim typed as fast as he could, and then looked at Oswald meaningfully.

“What’s that supposed to mean? Who else am I going to be?”

Jim puffed his feathers with frustration and got back to the keys.

“tell me what ur gonna say.”

Oswald rolled his eyes, but Jim could still see that his hands were shaking.

“I’m just going to tell him that I thought about what happened earlier and that I’m interested in… spending time…” Oswald started sputtering like a train engine with no more fuel toward the end.

Jim was never more certain he was doomed to be a bird forever. At least he had Harvey as a back-up plan.

“say it to me like i am him,”

“Well, technically you are him…”

Jim glared.

Oswald took a deep breath, closing his eyes, telling himself it should be easy. “Why do I have to do this?” He blurted out a complaint instead.

“he knows im here. he knows i could have found a way to tell you i am jim. he cant suspect anything or who know what he do.”

Oswald’s face was very serious with each new word Jim typed, changing as the realization set in until Jim made a few typos at the end and Oswald snorted, then giggled.

Jim chittered angrily and bounced on the keys with rage, a bunch of random letters coming out on top of each other in response and Oswald immediately wiped the smile off his face.

“All right, all right! I’ll rehearse it…” Oswald took a deep breath. “Hi Jim! It’s Oswald!” Oswald’s smile was wide across his face and his tone had the false enthusiasm of a retail employee.

Jim climbed the keys up to the page he’d typed on and pecked at the words ‘be urself.’

“Fine!” Oswald huffed. 

He took a deep breath, and then looked into Jim’s dark beady bird eyes.

“Jim… it’s me…” he said, rolling his eyes shortly at how strange it felt, but then continued. “I thought about what you said… what you wanted and… I…” Oswald’s tone seemed to weaken. “The truth is I want it too…” he said. “I know I said I needed time but I want to see you now. Can you come over?”

Bird Jim stared at him for a few moments, a little awestruck. Oswald sounded so sincere that Jim couldn’t help imagining he was actually saying those words to him, that he meant them.

“How was that?” Oswald asked after a moment, and Jim shook his feathers and turned back to the page to key the word _‘perfect.’_

o-o-o-o-o

Oswald took a deep breath as Jim looked at him with expectance, glad he hadn’t been on speaker phone.

“He can’t come tonight…” he said, bracing himself for Jim’s disapproval.

Jim peeped angrily, demanding further explanation.

Oswald took a deep breath. “He seemed reluctant, but he had some other matter to attend. Whatever it is evil parasites need to do with their time…” Oswald trailed off. “He said he’d come tomorrow.”

Jim hopped on his keys and typed the word _“tomorrow?!?!?”_

“You’re the one who said we can’t make him suspect anything! How was I supposed to demand an immediate heart-to-heart or whatever without seeming suspicious!?”

Jim seemed to cede to his point when his his feathers flattened and he turned his head away.

“Oh, don’t look so sad…” Oswald huffed. “You’re just a little bird, so it makes me sad too…”

Jim made a chirp that sounded oddly like a bark.

“Trust me, Jim,” Oswald said, and Jim looked up to him, thinking that he never would have admitted to trusting Oswald. But he did, he always did, in a way. “I’m here to help.” Oswald nodded affirmatively, and it was good enough for now. It had to be.

o-o-o-o-o

Jim sat in the very center of Oswald’s pillow, in Oswald’s bed, on the side he didn’t sleep on.

He was going to have to stay the night again, that much was obvious. Especially since Oswald mentioned how vulnerable was to predators because he couldn’t fly, there was no way he was going anywhere, especially not at night.

The night before he’d slept in a box. Obviously that wasn’t going to happen again. Oswald’s office was devoid of soft surfaces, and perhaps he wasn’t a very good bird because of it, but he didn’t fancy the idea of sleeping while standing up.

After he’d made the call and their plan had been put on hold, Oswald had taken a dive into some of his other work. Jim had eaten some food, and gotten Oswald to open the window so he could sit on the sill and get some fresh air. At some point another sparrow— a male with a black cap on its head and a little red under its chin had landed next to him, hopped up with interest. Jim was confused about what the hell it wanted before he remembered he had the appearance of a female sparrow and he made the most threatening attack-bird sounds possible. The other bird looked at him like he was a weirdo, and then flew off. Jim puffed his feathers and looked back at Oswald, who hadn’t even seemed phased by the noisy bird activity right at his window.

That had been the remainder of Jim’s day.

Around 10 PM, Oswald had groaned, shoved his palms into his eyesockets, and stood up suddenly.

“I’m going to bed,” he’d announced. Jim had only watched him at first, watched him reach for his cane and use it to help himself to the door.

“The cage door is open, that should have everything a bird needs,” he gestured toward it, and Jim just stared at him. With that, Oswald left the room. Jim panicked.Panicking entailed falling off his perch, which was currently Oswald’s hat rack. He plopped to the ground in slightly more organized a mess of wings and feathers than the last few times he’d plummeted. He chirped as he bounced toward the door, trying to get Oswald’s attention as he fumbled to fold his wings, not quite properly bird-like until he’d made it into the hall.

Oswald was just turning into his bedroom when Jim made it into the hall, and Jim knew he had a tendency to close doors behind him when entering rooms. He hopped as fast as his little legs could propel him, just barely making it inside before the door fell shut.

He peeped angrily up at Oswald, feathers ruffled.

Oswald finally looked down and acknowledged him, blinking with some confusion.

“What is it?” He asked.

Jim peeped again, plopping down on his feathery but and hoping Oswald would understand that he wasn’t going to walk another step on his stick legs, and wanted to be picked up.

Oswald rolled his eyes, but bent down, scooping Jim up into his cupped hands.

“Guess I have to put you up in something other than a cage since you’re not really a bird…”

Jim chirped as if to say “no shit!”

Oswald looked around the room, and so did Jim. There was what appeared to be an antique chair, but it was leather and didn’t look comfortable or soft enough for sleep. Other than that just about all of Oswald’s furniture was made of wood and definitely not built for comfort.

The bed was only a few feet away though, and Jim made up his mind, hopping out of Oswald’s hands and fluttering onto it.

“Hey! That’s my—,” Oswald stopped when Jim started stalking across the mattress as if scouting out the comfort factor. He stopped in the middle, then turned around and looked at Oswald as if asking a question.

Oswald sighed harshly. “I sleep on this side.” Oswald pointed to the far side.

Jim chirped and then stalked up the sheet to the fluffed and unused pillows on the side Oswald was standing next to. He clumsily climbed up onto them, flapping his wings to gain some air to make it easier as they collapsed underneath his however-many-ounces. When he finally made it to the middle, he tucked his legs under his body, and settled in.

“By all means, make yourself at home.” Oswald huffed. Jim wished he could speak english just to say _“thanks, I will,”_ but then he got distracted by an itch under his wing and jerked his head back to preen.

When he was finished pulling a loose, itchy feather he spat it out on the comforter in front of him. Then he looked down at it, thinking that was probably going to piss Oswald off. Still, it wasn’t like he knew where the trash was, and what else was he supposed to do with it?

He looked up to see if Oswald had noticed yet, and found Oswald folding his pants, which he’d just removed.

He stared— not as much because he was interested but because he hadn’t expected Oswald to be so shameless. He had a bathroom and a walk-in closet, he could have changed his clothes in either and come out in sleep-wear. Instead there he was, stripping down to a strange, white onesie.

If birds could laugh.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” Oswald barked upon catching him looking, and Jim ruffled his feathers and looked away. Upon doing so he felt another itch, and turned back to pull another loose feather and spit it down with the other one.

“Are you molting on my bedspread?!” Oswald shrieked, shooting across the room and leaning over the bed to snatch up the offending feathers. Jim could only glare at him, embarrassed but refusing to give up his dignity by acting ashamed. He wished he could have asked Oswald where he did his molting— but apparently the answer was shamelessly, right in front of his friends.

Or, whatever they were. Not friends.

“Don’t lose anymore!” Oswald held up the feathers accusingly and then stalked across the room to the bathroom, presumably to toss them in the trash in there. Jim shrugged him off. He couldn’t make any promises.

Oswald was dusting off his hands when he came back and Jim took some offense, but at least he hadn’t full-on washed them.

Jim was surprised when Oswald started crawling into bed in just that ridiculous underwear. _So that’s what he wore to bed._ Jim would have expected three-piece cashmere or silk pajamas and a stuffed penguin.

“You know…” Oswald sighed as he settled in, laying his head down on the pillow. “I believe that you’re Jim, especially after Harvey’s quiz, but it’s hard to actually…” he trailed off, then clicked his tongue, turning on his side and pulling the blanket up to his shoulder so just his head was sticking out. “…well, this memory is going to be really awkward when you’re human again.”

Jim considered, thinking it was definitely going to be more awkward for Oswald than for him.

“Honestly, it’s going to be so awkward that I might consider not helping you change back and ensuring that you’re a bird forever.”

Jim tweeted shortly and angrily and Oswald had the nerve to laugh, shimmying a little so he became more submerged in the covers and they covered his mouth now too. Just his beak-like nose and eyes and feathery hair stuck out.

This really was a bird’s nest now.

“I’m kidding. Mostly. I have my own interest but you’re still going to owe me big,” Oswald said. “After all, it’s your fault Fish is gone, so I really don’t have a reason to help you, but…”

Oswald was just monologuing now, and Jim had to look away. He couldn’t stop thinking about watching his body apologize for that, watching Oswald’s eyes soften like he bought it. He was so easy, so naive and forgiving it seemed.

More than once he’d considered the thought that Oswald must’ve been born into and spent his entire life in a different world. He’d watched the man destroy those he respected for power and then forgive those who crossed him just as quickly as he expected forgiveness for his own misgivings. It was certainly opposite to the world Jim lived in, where horrific actions could be water under the bridge, and hurting those you loved with purely malicious intentions was normal and something that could ever be forgiven. Perhaps it was why Jim couldn’t help so frequently looking at Oswald as an ally. Perhaps he saw a world where his actions had so much fewer consequences, and Oswald was his way of dipping his foot in the water without drowning in it.

It felt dirty to think of it that way, and for the first time he felt shame for taking advantage of him— for the greater good or not.

Maybe, just this once, he’d consider actually taking the debt seriously, and paying it in full in a way that mattered.

Maybe. Assuming that didn’t mean doing some of Oswald’s dirty work. Certainly there were other ways he could make it up to him.

“What are you thinking about?” Oswald’s voice broke his train of thought, and he realized he’d been looking very seriously down at the pillow in front of him. On a bird such a thing must look comical. Still, he didn’t know how Oswald expected him to answer the question.

Instead Jim just gave him a look— or he tried to, but when he turned his head he ended up just looking instead.

“It’s too easy to forget there’s a man in there,” Oswald said, and Jim let his eyes wander the creases and curves and little details of his face and hoped Oswald would just assume he was looking because Oswald was talking.

He was a bird and Oswald was a man right now, so none of this felt very intimate to Oswald. The thought of it being intimate likely hadn’t crossed his mind. But with Oswald laying there in bed, looking tired, Jim realized quickly how intimate the sight was, and how invasive he felt. Choosing to sleep next to him on the pillow had been a bad idea.

But here Oswald was in his natural habitat, calmly settling down to sleep after a day of non-violence at a desk, not a shred of bloodshed. He seemed like a man.

Of course he was, somewhere in there was certainly a man— and it wasn’t just somewhere, Jim had seen it so many times, it had made its way into his heart so many times and some part of him, the part that whispered secrets while he wasn’t listening, liked it.

He liked the part of Oswald that was just a man, no mobster, gangster, or monster and he didn’t feel like thinking about how that could be dangerous.

Right now he was more concerned with how it felt like an invasion of privacy, or like he was peaking through the blinds, or harboring unwelcome attraction to his bunkmate when they were just supposed to be sharing a—

—he needed to go to sleep.

Nothing would change after he changed back, but it was pointless now. He didn’t have to be Jim Gordon, righteous and out to put away evil-doers. He could be small, no one and of no consequence, and he could shamelessly glance one more time at Oswald Cobblepot before he fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :3
> 
> ngl the part where jim spits his feathers on oswald's bed is my favorite part and im not saying i posted and finished the entire fic just so people could read that bit but that's basically what i did


	4. curse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. This chapter is really plotty. I apologize for that, it might be a little boring because there's like... almost no actual Oz/Jim relationship development. Jim's barely even in it. I put a tl;dr at the end just in case y'all start yawning. Don't read it if you do plan to actually read this plot monster of a chapter bc it's spoilers.
> 
> Next chapter is sappier and full of REAL Gobblepot goodies.
> 
> Also please forgive me for how silly the whole fake gun thing is, and the fact that Jim probably shouldn't actually fit in it. This is a fanfiction. pls. i beg u.

“Jim! Jim, wake up!” Oswald’s voice and an earthquake shook him awake and he immediately panicked, flapping his wings about and shrieking.

“Calm down, calm down!” Oswald shouted, and Jim realized it wasn’t an earthquake, Oswald had just been shaking the pillow.

“It’s Jim— I mean, that thing in your body. He called back and he’s on his way here right now.”

Jim was calm for only a moment before he started panicking again. He had to hide, or get back in the cage! If that thing saw him out and about it might suspect Oswald knew he was more than a bird!

“Jim, please!” Oswald’s voice boomed and Jim froze, looking to him in startled askance.

“I made this,” he said, and Jim narrowed his bird brow at what appeared to be a large holster of some kind. In his other hand was the handle and trigged of a pistol with the barrel still attached but the slides and sights removed. “I stuffed tissues in the bottom, you should fit comfortably and you’ll be able to come along wherever I go.”

Jim chirped, hoping to convey a question about where the hell Oswald expected to be going.

“Yesterday morning before he left he seemed adamant about showing me something, I think it has something to do with his goal. If it does it’s the best way to figure out what he’s up to.”

Jim was just not remembering that too. Still, while the leather sack seemed large for a standard pistol, Jim was still sure he wasn’t going to fit “comfortably” in it.

“I’m going to pick you up and bring you to the office, that way you can say anything you need to say before this starts,” Oswald said the words and then he was reaching out to scoop Jim up in his hands. Jim let him, shimmying a little to make sure both his legs were in Oswald’s palms and not hanging down. Oswald seemed to be a in a great hurry, ignoring Ivy Pepper completely when she greeted him as he walked by.

“You still have that bird?” She’d asked, and he hadn’t said a word or acknowledged her at all before hurrying into the office and shutting the door behind him.

He rushed to set Jim down near the type-writer, which was still set with the same page from last night. Jim looked over his former literature and then hopped up onto the keys again, typing out one word:

_“harvey?”_

Oswald scoffed, “that idiot hasn’t called yet. If he knows anything, he doesn’t want to share it, and if he doesn’t then he’s even more useless than I expected.”

Jim had already started typing the words _“he’ll come through!”_ seconds into Oswald’s rant, and then he climbed the words to peck at it profusely. Oswald merely rolled his eyes, and opened his mouth to speak before there was a knock at the door.

“Jim Gordon again, chief. Want me to throw him out? Or do you two need some alone time?”

“For god’s sake just send him in, Victor!” Oswald barked, and Zsasz cheerfully chimed out “Can do!” before disappearing again.

“Get in, get in!” Oswald pointed to the holster home he’d created for Jim. Jim followed the instruction, but stumbled on the way down. It was every bit as uncomfortable as he expected, his tail feathers bent and cramped against the side, and he was sure the movement was obvious as he tried to adjust himself against the barrel of the inserted pistol.

Still, if Oswald was going somewhere with his imposter, he wanted to be there. 

Oswald didn’t waste a moment closing the leather strap over the top of the holster to hold the pretend pistol in place, and then Jim’s world started to spin as he assumed Oswald was attaching the holster to his belt. Once the world stopped spinning, Jim found that if he stretched his legs enough he could peak out of the top of his little case. When he did, he looked around, noticing Oswald’s hip was a little further up. He seemed to be attached to the side of Oswald’s thigh instead.

He definitely didn’t think about how Oswald probably looked kind of hot in a thigh holster, and then ducked into the case at the sound of his own voice.

“Glad you could see me,” it said, and he tried not to get sick as Oswald spun around. He really hoped he didn’t plan on doing too much more of that while Jim was attached to him.

“…Of course,” Oswald said. “I called you, after all.”

“I’m really glad you did.” Jim said, stepping a little further into the room. He glanced over at the open and empty bird cage, and then back at Oswald. “I’m sorry about last time, and the time before that.”

Oswald tried to stay straight-faced, thinking only that this fake Jim seemed to really enjoy apologizing.

“I’ve been going about this all the wrong way and the truth is I thought you’d never want to see me again, but—,”

“Jim,” Oswald interrupted. He could only stand so much bullshit. “I know our relationship is vastly complicated, but— I think you know I’ve had a thing for you since the start.”

Jim smiled weakly at that, and Oswald didn’t know whether to let himself melt for the sake of his part or stay firmly held.

“I was worried it may have worn off.”

There were some ways this thing was absolutely awful at playing Jim, but in other ways it just seemed to know so much. Too much. So much that Oswald likely would have taken much longer to suspect it wasn’t him if it weren’t for the bird in his makeshift pocket.

Whoever was in there, they’d done their homework.

“Well, I guess that’s what we’re going to find out.” Oswald said, turning away from Jim— not Jim to bite his lip and take a deep breath. This was going to be difficult if he kept reminding himself it wasn’t actually Jim. New plan: pretend it was.

“So…” Jim started, and Oswald spun back to face him because he sounded closer. He was. “Did your bird escape?” Jim asked, delicately, from just a foot away.

“It… died…” Oswald said.

Jim blinked, and his eyes shifted down and away. “That’s a shame, after you put all that work into keeping it.” Oswald couldn’t read the expression on his face for certain, but it looked like relief.

Oswald shrugged. “It’s all right. You were right, I shouldn’t keep a wild animal anyway.”

“Maybe it’d be worth it if it was a penguin.” Jim suggested, and Oswald sputtered out a laugh, then covered his mouth subtly with his knuckles. 

“I know things are rough between us, but…” Jim started, then took a deep breath. “While I’m here, I thought maybe I could take you some place. Maybe make some of it up to you.”

Oswald pursed his lips, forced himself to nod. “Yesterday you said there was something you wanted to show me?”

“We’ll save that for later.”

o-o-o-o-o

It didn’t take much conversation between the two of them for Jim to realize this was going to be a long and grueling experience. Oswald could have stood to be a little less good at in the acting department. The laugh at the penguin joke made his feathers puff. He could just have easily made that joke.

“Are you sure? You seemed pretty persistent.”

Jim tried to adjust himself subtly and quietly so he could see his own human face from inside the holster of a hiding place. This meant only turning his head around unnaturally far— if only he’d been an owl. Still, he was able to catch himself looking sheepish.

“It was something I thought might clear the air for us, but I realized I can’t rush this. If you’re giving me even this much of a chance then I’m satisfied with a date.”

Of course he’d say that. He tried to rush Oswald yesterday and it only ended in Oswald kicking him out. He was trying to butter the King of Gotham up and Jim knew that was something that didn’t come easily. Especially when you’re an evil body-snatcher!

“Oh, well…” Oswald seemed lost for words. “Where did you have in mind?”

“Is that a yes?”

“Of course it’s a yes.” Oswald’s voice was breathy, and Jim could have thrown up.

“Hey Pengy…” Ivy’s voice came from the doorway and Jim want from disgusted to mortified. She’d seen Jim in Oswald’s hands earlier, if she mentioned that he was still alive they were done for.

“Yes, Ivy?”

“I just wanted to ask you a question about the b—,”

“Boiler room!” Oswald interrupted loudly, and aggressively. “Yes! Excuse us for just one moment, Jim!”

Jim felt himself bouncing around as Oswald hurried toward the door, hearing Ivy’s voice saying something like “Boiler room? We don’t have a—,” before she squeak and Jim could see Oswald prodding her out of the room. They moved down the hall, Ivy making confused sounds and half-phrases, until Jim heard a door shut.

“Listen, we don’t have a lot of time. Jim’s been turned into a bird, and that’s not really him, and long story short you can’t talk about the bird.”

There was silence for a long time. 

“Jim Gordon?”

“Yes, Jim Gordon!”

“But I just saw him, he was right there,” Ivy was using her best voice of practicality, “and people can’t get turned into—,”

“Ivy!” Oswald shouted. “Just don’t mention the bird. Okay? I got rid of it. Just now.”

“You got rid of Gordon?”

“IVY!”

“All right, all right, I won’t talk about the bird, geez…” Ivy’s heels clicking on the ground and then the sound of the door swinging open signified that she seemed to have stormed off after that.

Oswald heaved a sigh.

“This is going to be a nightmare,” he said under his breath, and then they were moving again.

o-o-o-o

Lunch.

They were having lunch. They had been for _hours._

Or twenty minutes, but when you’re cramped in a small space with your tail bent up at the base for so long you can’t feel it anymore, twenty minutes feels like hours.

Oswald sounded as impatient as Jim felt. Not Jim was making small talk and Oswald’s responses had frequently held hints of disinterest. He _was_ acting well. So well, in fact, that only someone that knew him at least as well as Jim could tell he was being ingenuine, yet Not Jim didn’t seem to have a clue.

New theory: the imposter knew a lot about Oswald without actually knowing him personally. How was that possible? Some fly on the wall, spying on him for what could have been months, or years…?

Come to think of it, this fly on the wall had to have gathered a decent amount of information about Jim, too.

He’d picked up on little things as the meal went on from sound alone. Oswald hadn’t wanted anything, but the imposter had convinced him to at least get something small. _'No one likes having any empty stomach!'_ he’d said in a voice that Jim had found strange and unattractive.

After that they’d been eating with little to no conversation between bites. Not Jim didn’t ask Oswald if he liked his food, nor vice versa. Not Jim did mention once, shortly, that he liked Oswald’s choice of dress today and Oswald had thanked him and told him it was custom made.

It seemed oddly in-character for an awkward first date between Oswald Cobblepot and Jim Gordon, which was only chilling due to the fact that that Jim wasn’t him.

“I’m going to get some coffee to go,” Jim’s own voice drew his attention after they’d been eating for some time. “Do you want anything?” He asked, “Iced tea, or…” he offered, no impatience or urgency in his voice. When was this guy going to lead them somewhere useful?

“No, I’m fine,” Oswald answered. Jim heard a chair pull out across the table and it was followed shortly by Oswald’s dragging out as well. Oswald stood, and Jim guessed they were walking toward the cafe bar.

“Are you paying?” Oswald asked once he stopped walking.

There was a pause before any answer. Jim couldn’t see his own face but it seemed like the question took him by surprise when he finally did respond.

“I figured you would be…” Jim’s voice sounded smooth, flirtacious with a side of humor.

o-o-o

_“I figured you would be…”_

Oswald’s plan of just-pretend-it’s-really-Jim faltered for a moment at that. It wasn’t so much because it was out of character as it was breaking the pattern of apologeticness he’d laid down. Real Jim might have tried to make a stupid joke like that, but fake Jim was just fumbling to cover up a mistake: he hadn’t thought at all about who would be paying.

“Of course,” Oswald pulled a smile just in time. He approached the counter, fishing out his wallet the same time as his mind filled with intrigue. He furrowed his brow as he recounted their recent exchanges, and another questionable item came to mind.

“How did you know I don’t drink coffee?” Oswald turned back to face him, feeling movement against his thigh as the spin apparently startled someone.

Fake Jim yet again took a moment to answer, looking confused.

“You didn’t ask if I wanted coffee too. Somehow you just knew I didn’t, and offered anything else,” Oswald explained.

“Oh, yeah…” Fake Jim rubbed his neck. He was likely doing it nervously while trying to make it look something more akin to sheepish. “I guess I just pay more attention to you than I realized.”

o-o-o

 _Smooth._ Jim thought inside the confines of his dark, cramped prison.

Funny thing was, he also knew Oswald didn’t like coffee, and couldn’t remember why or when he’d gathered that information, or why he remembered it.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

“Maybe you like coffee a little too much…” Oswald crinkled his nose.

They were passing through the cafe’s exit doors now, and Oswald was watching as Fake Jim tipped the cup back against his lips and gulped down at least 3 full mouthfuls before he stopped and pulled the cup away, enthusiastically licking his lips.

“I love coffee!” He exclaimed, and it was disturbing. Oswald wondered if the caffeine had instantly gone to his head and was already throwing him off his act.

“It really keeps you going, you know!?”

It was hard to keep a straight face through the sound of that peppy chirp in Jim Gordon’s voice. Jim did drink coffee. Probably too much of it, so it didn’t make much sense for it to be effecting his body so strongly unless this imposter was drinking way, way too much. Come to think of it, he looked like he’d put on a little weight. Maybe it was the sugar making him act out? Oswald didn’t think Jim used any in his brew. If he had, maybe he would have been sweeter.

“I don’t like it,” Oswald shrugged. Fake Jim looked annoyed, and maybe that had been Oswald’s goal.

“Anyway,” Oswald needed to put his game face back on. They weren’t going to get anywhere with both of them pretending to go on dates. “I’m really curious about this thing you said you wanted to show me. Is it a gift? A grand gesture?” Oswald inquired, inserting some nervousness or bashfulness in his voice, something that would hopefully make Not Jim feel like he was blushing when he definitely wasn’t blushing.

A smile crept over Fake Jim’s lips and Oswald was sure they were finally going to get somewhere, until—

Not Jim jumped far too dramatically when Oswald’s phone rang loudly from his pocket. He really was on edge despite how collected he’d been until now.

Oswald checked the ID on the caller. No name, but he recognized Harvey Bullock’s number immediately. His holster shifted as if something had moved inside it, enough fidgeting that it almost made sound. Jim wanted to know who it was.

He had to get somewhere private or the idiot in his pocket was going to give them away.

“I’m sorry, I should take this privately,” Oswald said to Not Jim.

“Privately?” Not Jim protested, appearing suspicious.

“No cops allowed, Jim,” Oswald clarified.

“Oh,” Not Jim deflated, as if it was perfectly fine with him if it was just some criminal business Oswald had to go and conduct. Another slip-up.

“I’ll be right back,” with that, Oswald turned and re-entered the cafe, heading in the direction of the restrooms. There was a men’s and women’s public with stalls, and there was a family restroom with a single door and a lock. Perfect.

He rushed in, answering the call at the same time as he locked the door.

“Hello? Harvey?” It was then that Jim decided it was a good time to throw a noisy fit. Oswald groaned in frustration and held the phone to his ear at the same time as he pulled the gun from the holster so Jim could climb out.

“I got her,” Harvey said, and Oswald barely heard it over the sound of Jim’s grumpy chirps. He cringed as Jim’s talons dug into his pantleg as he helped himself out. He started flapping almost immediately, and flailed his way over to the sink counter before turning back to Oswald to listen to the call. Oswald moved as close to Jim as he could, hoping the bird could hear what was being said on both ends.“Her? Her who?”

“The witch! I found out where she’s at! Write down this address,” Harvey replied, and the background noise sounded as if he was driving.

Oswald nodded with urgency and then looked around the room for something to write on. Harvey had already started reciting the address but Oswald didn’t process a word of it on account of the fact that this was a bathroom and there was nothing to write with.

“Harvey!” Oswald shouted into the phone. “I can’t write it down! Just text it!”

No answer. Oswald pulled the phone away from his ear and looked at the screen. Call dropped.

Jim peeped from the sink as if to demand an update.

“There’s no service in here!” Oswald was already pressing buttons on the phone frustratedly, and Jim had to assume he was dialing Harvey’s number again. He was eight numbers in when a few raps on the bathroom door made him freeze.

“You okay in there?” Jim’s voice came through the door. He was shouting but his voice was extremely quiet and muffled. The walls must’ve been thick.

“What a creep! It’s been all of sixty seconds,” Oswald muttered. Jim peeped loudly in agreement.

“I’m off the call but I had to use the bathroom!” Oswald shouted. “I’ll just be a minute!”

“Okay…” came the reply, but it sounded unconvinced, and Oswald had a feeling he was still standing right there, probably with his ear pressed to the door.

“Ugh! Get back in!” Oswald pointed to the holster. Jim puffed up his feathers and jerked his head meaningfully back and forth. That place was hell.

“Get in or stay in here! Good luck trying to open the door and get out!” Oswald was whispering as quietly as he could but in the meanest tone he could muster.

Jim internally groaned, and gave in. He hopped the short distance between the sink counter and Oswald’s thigh holster and fell into the dark hole, crumpling as gracelessly as a man greeting sucked threw a tiny window and into deep space.

Oswald secured the camouflage handle as it had been, took a deep breath, and then calmly walked to the sink to wash his hands.

He left the water running fo a few seconds, then turned on the electric hands dryer, waited a few more seconds, and then opened the door.

“You didn’t flush,” Fake Jim said immediately because he was standing right there and also a freak.

Oswald had to gawk at his complete lack of a sense of privacy. To hell with all this, Oswald wanted to stab him to death. Jim could get used to being his cute little pet bird, and—

—his murder throughs were interrupted by his phone ringing again.

“Ignore it,” Not Jim said, tone blunt and rather commanding. Oswald blinked at him, not sure how to regain control of the situation.

“I want to show you that thing now,” he said, and the likeness of the smile that stretched across his lips had never existed on the real Jim Gordon’s face.

Something about him started to feel wrong, not just not-Jim wrong but as if there were something totally different in there— something inhuman. But it was too late. If Oswald didn’t stick with it, he may never find out what it wants, and Jim really would be stuck in a bird forever.

He didn’t _really_ want that.

So Oswald went with fake Jim, followed him back to the car and let him tell the driver where to go.

“You okay?” Fake Jim asked, sincerely, like he at least partially believed he still had Oswald at least partially fooled.

“I’m fine, just nervous,” It wasn’t a complete lie. Oswald had his own tricks up his sleeve— he wasn’t dumb enough to walk into this without a back-up plan. But he had no idea where they were going, and there was only so far they could go before his back-up plan wouldn’t be in time to save him.

“Don’t be,” Not Jim reassured. It didn’t work.

Oswald froze stiff and his mouth ran dry when he leaned over and left a gentle kiss on his cheek. It may have been Jim’s body, but the thought of what was in it made him want to gag in response to the gesture. Instead, he turned to face Jim awkwardly, and forced a smile.

He couldn’t wait to kill who or what was in there.

o-o-o-o-o

“Where are we?” Oswald asked. Not Jim had been rather disturbingly distracting on the ride over. At once point he’d put his hand on Oswald’s knee and smiled at him and Oswald had attempted to smile back without losing it and stabbing him in the throat.

The point was, Oswald hadn’t really paid attention to the routes they took. But the horrible smell of things dying, rotting, and a hint of gunfire suggested the narrows.

“It smells awful,” Oswald crinkled his nose. He avoided coming here as often as he could. “What could you possibly have to show me in a place like this?”

“It’s not that bad,” Not Jim’s voice was rather uncaring. “You’ll get used to it.”

Little alarms went off in Oswald’s head at that. Not Jim wasn’t pretending anymore, or if he was he wasn’t trying that hard and it must’ve been because something was about to happen. Oswald’s driver was still here, though, and Not Jim had no idea the failsafes Oswald had put into place to maintain his own safety. First and foremost, the fact that there was no way in hell Oswald was going into the building that Not Jim was currently leading him toward.

“Penguin! Jim!” Harvey’s voice came from their left, just down the sidewalk. This must’ve been the address he’d been trying to give Oswald over the phone. It had been a long drive, but somehow they’d gotten there first! Just in time!

“Hello Detective!” Oswald greeted with aggressive enthusiasm. “I hope you’re armed!” Oswald hurried in Harvey’s direction, eager to get away from Fake Jim who was always standing too close to him.

When Oswald stood next to Harvey and looked back at him, Not Jim’s expression was dark and unfriendly, the opposite of the part he’d been playing most of the day.

“Sorry, Jim… or, whoever you are. This is over.” Oswald said, dramatically snatching Harvey’s gun from his hip and pointing it at Jim’s face. “We’re going to go in there and you’re going to get whoever is in there to give the real Gordon his body back or I’ll shove this straight down your throat!”

Not Jim stared at him for a few moments, frowning hard, eyes shifting from Harvey to the mouth of the gun in Oswald’s hand.

“You knew,” he stated.

“The whole time!” Oswald said, and maybe cackled victoriously, just a little.

“You’d really shoot him?” Not Jim took a step forward. “Officer Gordon? Your friend?”

Oswald curled his lips as he pulled back on the hammer with his thumb, never breaking eye-contact.

“You’re the one who’s been watching me for years,” Oswald said, “what do you think?”

The challenging little smirk disappeared from Jim’s mouth, and he was glaring hatefully.

“Gimme that,” Harvey didn’t give Oswald much more time to revel in his victory. He snatched the weapon from Oswald’s hand before he could protest with more than a surprised gasp.

“You’re under arrest,” Harvey strode passed Oswald, pulling out handcuffs with his free hand.

“Harvey!” Oswald barked as Harvey walked behind Not Jim and pulled his wrists behind him, cuffs clanking as they were closed.

“We have to switch them back, not throw him in a GCPD holding cell!”

“I know,” Harvey replied plainly. “Just making sure he can’t fight back.”

“Oh…” Oswald wished he was still the one holding the gun, but at least they still had the upper hand. Jim had been awfully quiet throughout the ordeal. It was probably safe for him to come out of hiding now, but Oswald hesitated.

“Why don’t you aim your gun at him just in case?” Harvey suggested.

“…my gun?” Oswald questioned, and looked down at his thigh holster wherein the real Jim resided.

“Oh. That’s not real.” Oswald said.

“You’re unarmed?” Harvey asked, sounding kind of outraged.

“I have precautions in place! One of which was looking like I was armed…” Oswald huffed. Of course Harvey was still looking at him like he was stupid.

“And what are the other precautions?” Harvey asked.

“I’m being tracked. If something happens and the driver doesn’t check in, my men will be sent straight here.”

“You put a tracker in your suit?” Harvey said with some amusement. Not Jim was suspiciously quiet, and not moving or struggling against having been bound at the wrists.

“No, idiot,” Oswald rolled his eyes. “It’s in the car.”

“Hm. Well that’s pretty smart, Cobblepot. How long between check-ins?” Harvey asked.

“10 minutes,” Oswald said, “See? I have everything under cont—,”

Oswald cut himself off when he became confused as Oswald walked away from his supposed prisoner, leaving him standing there alone with his hands behind his back but still with working and untied legs… and teeth. That seemed pretty careless.

The window of the vehicle was rolled down, and the driver had been watching intently and listening since they came to a stop.

“How long ’til next check-in?” Harvey asked the driver with a big, friendly smile.

“I just did one minute ag—,” the driver didn’t get to finish before Harvey had raised the pistol and shot one clean round through the open window. Oswald was a few yards away, but he saw a splash of blood land on the steering wheel.

“What the hell!” Oswald shrieked, and that was when Jim— the real Jim, started making noise. He must’ve heard the gunshot and Oswald’s distraught tone and wanted to know what was going on, to hell with stealth. That was so like him.

“You got this covered?” Harvey turned back to ask the question, but he wasn’t looking at Oswald. He was looking at Jim— the other Jim, who had brought both his hands back around in front of him, handcuff-free.

Oswald gasped.

“I’ll take the car across town to throw them off. Meet me at the spot when it’s done.” Harvey was shouting to Not Jim as he walked around to the driver's side door of the car. Once there, he wasted no time opening the door and pulling the former driver's body out. He left it lying in the road as he got behind the wheel himself. Jim had gone silent in the holster now, and Oswald was too distracted by Not Jim coming toward him with a villainous grin to wonder why.

“Harvey…” “Harvey” was already driving away at a speed of at least 50 mph, and there were tire-marks left in his wake. Oswald knew by now that it wasn’t Harvey, but he couldn’t help still wishing it were. Why did everything have to go so wrong so suddenly?!

“You’re not stupid,” Jim’s mouth spoke, but his tone and speech patterns were drastically different from any way he or the real Jim had ever sounded before. “But we’ve been watching you long enough to know you get sloppy when you think you have all the power.”

He moved until he was just a few feet away and then stopped. “You’d do well to remember that even the smallest of the small have some power, and that power can grow. You’d think someone like you would understand that, but you’re too arrogant, and it’s too late now.”

For a moment all Oswald could do was stare at him as the man insulted and berated him. He knew he had to run, that he was probably going to suffer the same fate as Jim and possibly Harvey if he didn’t, but he was in some form of shock about Harvey not being Harvey and everything flipping up-side-down.

…Fake Jim had the gun, but he wouldn’t shoot Oswald. He targeted Oswald in the first place, and brought him here, because he needed him alive!

Oswald turned on his heel and tried to run, but he only got a few feet before Not Jim caught up with him— curse his bad leg— and yanked him backward by the shoulder. He stumbled but managed to stay upright, and felt the mouth of the gun against his lower back, freezing on instinct. Not Jim forced his body to turn, facing him in the direction of the eerie looking building in front of them.

“Walk,” he commanded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tl;dr : they got harvey, and they about to get oswald :C.


	5. crush

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a feathery conclusion. Sorry this update took so long. I had it written for a while but it took me a long time to translate it from a notebook onto here. Didn't foresee my own laziness,,, but here it is!

\- 1 hour earlier -

_“Ivy?”_

_“Yes, Ivy. Who is this?”_

_“It doesn’t matter, I need to talk to Cobblepot!”_

_“Is this Detective Bullock?” Ivy crinkled her nose with distaste._

_“Yes! Now get Penguin!”_

_Ivy rolled her eyes. “He’s not here. He went on a date or… something…”_

_“Ugh! All right, fine. I need you to write this address down…”_

_Ivy sighed irritably and flipped over a random, possibly important document that was on Oswald’s desk. She picked up a pen. “All right, fine. Whatever.”_

\- Present -

Oswald did as he was told because he didn’t see much of a choice. But if he was in some way going out, he certainly wasn’t about to do it quietly.

“Even if you take my body, do you really think anyone else can run this city? No one else can do what I do!” Oswald shouted as he was lead roughly through the door.

“We both know that’s not true,” Not-Jim mumbled. “We’ve been watching you for years. I’ve seen you fail as often as you succeed, and every time I could see exactly where you went wrong.”

He sure as hell was arrogant enough for the job. But if he was planning to take Oswald’s body, did that mean Jim was going to get his back? Not likely, and if he did, he’d probably be killed immediately after.

“Ever heard the phrase harder than it looks!?” Oswald barked, but he was silenced and brought to a standstill when he was shoved into an open room. It appeared that it may have at once been a front reception office with a waiting room of some kind, but now it was practically a zoo. There were birds everywhere, all of them perched out in the open, and even some wild rodents, like a squirrel on the back of a chair, a mouse scurrying across the ground. The place was fairly clean and stench-free for how many of them their were, but that didn’t make it any less horrifying.

“What is this?” Oswald struggled as the birds in the room stared at him as if he were their next meal.

One of them started to screech at him, flapping its wings madly from the far side of the room. It was the only one in a cage, and it was a small sparrow, just like Jim.

“Harvey!” Oswald exclaimed when the truth became obvious, and at the same moment, a woman appeared from behind the tall reception desk.

She looked a little young and fair to be a witch, but Oswald knew by her arrogant stride and the way the animals seemed to turn to her for guidance in regard to him that this was all her doing.

“Who are you!?” Oswald barked, jerking at his arms as Not-Jim held them firmly behind his back.

“It doesn’t matter,” she said, and Oswald felt ready to explode. She remained calm despite that he was jerking at his captor and vibrating with rage. “Soon very little will matter for you. It’s time to give up the wheel to those less fortunate.”

There was an empty perch that looked like a hat rack only about a foot from him. It was empty, that was until a black-capped sparrow flitted out from behind the desk and landed on it, looking at him with interest.

“You mean…” Oswald stared at the bird, that seemed to be sizing him up. Or thinking about trying him on.

“Just do it,” Not-Jim interrupted gruffly from behind him, jerking at Oswald’s wrists.

“Don’t damage it!” The woman scolded, and Jim’s grip immediately softened so that it wouldn’t bruise but was still far from escapable. The little sparrow on the hat rack now seemed to be looking over Oswald’s shoulder at Not-Jim. Oswald glanced back to find that Not-Jim was looking right back at it.

“I know you miss him,” the woman said softly. “But I used the latest batch on that detective, so I’m going to have to make up another before we can use this one. You’ll have to put him away for now.”

“Put me away!?” Oswald protested. “You really are taking people and putting your sick little friends in their bodies!?”

“Don’t worry,” the woman’s voice was smooth as silk as she approached him, just the kind of gentle voice you’d expect a bunch of dumb forest animals to trust. “We don’t harm the original vessels.” She reached out and stroked the sparrows head.

“Says you,” Not-Jim huffed. “I still think it’s safer to kill them.” Not-Jim removed one hand from Oswald’s wrist to reach down and unbuckle the holster from his thigh. He all but tore it off once it was loose and Oswald heard panicked tweets and shrieks from inside until he turned it up-side-down and shook Jim out of it.

“Now, now!” The woman quipped as Jim plopped to the ground in a clump of feathers. He seemed delirious as he scrambled to Oswald’s pant-leg and clung to it. 

“You know what would happen if something were to go wrong and you had no body to return to! The vessel must have a soul to survive, and it must survive.”

“Whatever you say…” Not-Jim was glaring down at Bird-Jim as he spoke. He looked like he wanted to stomp on him.

“Take them into the old refrigerator and lock the door. Do not harm your old vessel, and allow them to say their good-byes.”

Not-Jim scoffed, “…one of them can’t say anything.” He bent down rather suddenly and grabbed Jim’s tiny body in one fist. Jim seemed fatigued, likely from the cramped heat for all this time but he still had the energy to loudly complain.

“Jim!” Oswald protested, and Not-Jim just shoved him forward. “You heard the queen, he’ll be fine. Let’s go.” Not Jim shoved Oswald forward so hard he nearly stumbled. Oswald’s eyes searched the room for weapons, and not only did he not see any but he _had_ seen John Carpenter’s _The Birds_. He had a feeling if he tried anything his eyes were going to be pecked out while that creepy squirrel chewed his ears off while Jim was ripped to feathery pieces. It was a ridiculous thought in his head but in a small room like this, the woman basically had an army.

“Why are you doing this for them?” Oswald shouted to the woman as a last resort. “I could offer you so much, anything you want!”

The woman merely laughed softly. “Silly Penguin,” she said. “I _am_ them.”

Oswald only had a moment to discern what that meant before he was pushed into a narrow hall that looked like it may have lead to a kitchen, and then sideways into what was once a walk-in cooler, but no longer cool. Instead it was as humid as the rest of this disgusting place.

He stopped at the entrance to try and keep himself from being thrown in, but Not-Jim immediately lifted his foot and kicked him in the back of the thigh, forcing him to fall inside. Oswald just barely caught himself on his hands and knees, and then he watched Jim’s flailing wings whip past him and crumple on the ground as Not-Jim appeared to have thrown him inside.

“You’re going to be sorry you hurt him when you end up back in that body! And you will!” Oswald whipped around to shout, but Not-Jim was already shutting the door. Oswald threw himself against it just as the sound of a heavy lock clicked shut from the outside.

“Let me out! Let us out, I’ll kill you, and all your creepy little friends!”

Jim shook himself off after having been thrown to the ground. He’d caught himself in the air with his wings at least a little and managed to break his fall. He was pretty sure he was all right physically— or his bird body was.

It took a long time for Oswald to stop shouting at the door Jim didn’t try to stop him, he didn’t know how, and Oswald was doing a lot of kicking and flailing on top of it and Jim didn’t know if he could enter a two-foot radius of him without getting smacked by a limb. After at least five minutes, Oswald seemed to give up, and just fell limp against the door, turning so the side of his head and cheek were pressed miserably against it.

Jim walked toward him slowly, carefully. He felt responsible. Of course he did, he was the one who got caught in the first place. He still didn’t remember how, he suspected there was some form of induced memory loss of the surrounding time involved in the process. But regardless, he was evidently the first one to succumb to this trap, and he’d lead Oswald right into the same thing.

It took some extra force to raise his feathery head, and then turn it to look Oswald in the eye as apologetically as a bird could.

“Don’t look at me like that…” Oswald sighed, and pushed away from the door. He stalked over to the corner of the room, and leaned against the wall. His back dragged down it slowly legs bending carefully until he was sitting on his butt with his feet out in front of him. Jim hopped over, and flapped his wings to elevate himself enough to perch on the tip of Oswald’s shoe. He was getting the hang of flying to some degree at least, and if he was doomed to be a bird forever, at least there was that.

“Look at you,” Oswald said, grinning and even laughing, “you’ve gone native…”

Jim peeped in disagreement and ruffled his feathers.

Oswald laughed a little more and then sighed, the smile disappearing from his lips, head pressed back against the wall and eyes sealed shut tightly. He stayed like that, despondently, for a few minutes. Jim relaxed and sat quietly on the toe of his shoe. There was nothing he could do, no way to console. They were both equally screwed.

“I’m not afraid to die,” Oswald said after some time. “I’ve come close enough times that maybe part of me thinks I’m invincible.”

Jim perked up to listen.

“I’m just saying I wouldn’t normal confess things before death, but…”

“…this isn’t death, I’m going to be turned into a bird and I’m not seeing a way out of it, so this might be my last chance to say this…” he closed his eyes, and breathed in a deep sigh.

“…I lied when I said it could have been anyone,” Oswald was looking at the ceiling, not at Jim, his head tilted back with his meticulously feathered hair now smashed against the wall behind him. “If nothing else I just want you to know that I have higher standards than that. A lot higher, really…” Oswald laughed, for some reason, “…I’m actually quite picky.”

Jim listened quietly. He didn’t know what he wanted to hear, but he wanted Oswald to keep talking. He wanted to hear all of it, whatever it was, and he wanted every detail.

“…I wanted you.”

Jim froze.

“I know I can’t have you, I’ve always known that, I wasn’t going to…” his breath hitched as the words caught in his throat. Jim waited for more, but stayed absolutely still looking back at him.

“You probably already knew,” Oswald straightened his head and looked at Jim. “But that’s why they did this to you, why they picked you.”

Oswald didn’t seem to be willing to say it in so many words, but was he really blaming himself? Jim wanted to tell him it wasn’t his fault, but he was still speechless from hearing those words from Oswald’s mouth and sorting through all the ways they made him feel. Also, birds still can’t speak.

But if they could he would’ve told Oswald that it wasn’t his fault, because he wasn’t the only one of them they saw paying too much attention to and taking too much of an interest in the other. He wasn’t the only one who looked back, who was holding something down, who couldn’t help but care.

He never would have done anything about it, either. But here they were. Oswald had confessed and Jim cursed his tiny worthless bird body more than ever before because he would have done anything in that moment to kiss him. What did he have to lose now?

“I guess I can’t ask you to say something…” Oswald mumbled. Jim didn’t make any noise, instead he hopped off Oswald’s shoe and onto his leg, walking up his pantleg, flapping his wings to carry himself a few more steps onto Oswald’s stomach, and then his shoulder, where he tucked his legs under his body and settled down.

“I’ll take that as you being not totally appalled…” Oswald said, humorously. Jim couldn’t help it, part of him was just frustrated as he titled his head, and pressed the top of it against Oswald’s cheek. It felt silly, but he was so much more than just ‘not appalled.’

He felt Oswald tense, and heard him swallow, and then he relaxed. He didn’t manage to say anything else for the remainder of the night.

o-o-o-o

“Hey Pengy,” Ivy said, sighing as she walked into his office. “I just thought you should know the detective who shot my dad is here. He’s acting weird and hanging out in your lounge and no one’s doing anything about it.”

“Ivy!” Oswald addressed her with enthusiasm, folding his hands in front of him as he smiled. “I’m a little busy at the moment, but I can assure you Detective Bullock is more than welcome here. I apologize if there is any bad blood between you, but if you’d like to talk about it, we can later.”

“Uh…” Ivy furrowed her brow, then shrugged. “Yeah. Sure. Okay.”

She was about to leave when yet another GCPD detective appeared from the entrance that lead to the bathroom. He walked smugly into the room, barely acknowledging Ivy as he strode to Oswald’s desk and leaned his back against the front of it.

“Um,” Ivy was beyond confused. “What the hell’s he doing in here?”

“Don’t worry yourself,” Oswald said, with sincerity and giving her his full attention. “I promise I have everything under control, and again, if you have concerns, I’d be happy to hear you out a little later.”

Ivy stared at him, brow crinkled in disbelief at his behavior. Worse, the way Detective Gordon scooted closer to his chair and then boosted himself up to sit on Oswald’s desk, smiling down at him. Oswald smiled up at him, too.

“So, you’re like, busy right now?” Ivy asked for confirmation.

“Just a little,” Oswald’s attention was now divided, and he was staring up at Gordon while smiling dreamily instead of looking at her. 

“Are you and Gordon dating?” Her nose couldn’t get much more crinkled. “I thought you liked the frozen guy.”

“Ivy, please,” Oswald sighed softly.

“Please?” She tried to ignore his rudeness most of the time but the fact was that Penguin rarely asked for things nicely, and everything he’d said since she’d walked into the room had been “nicely.” Something finally clicked in her mind.

“Okay,” she said, starting to back out the door. “Right. I’ll go.” She nodded, and hurried out, closing the door behind her.

She fell against it once shut, eyes wide as she took a deep breath. She remembered Oswald telling her that Gordon was a bird, and based on the sunflower seeds Detective Bullock had been shoving in his mouth for the past hour, he wasn’t the only one.

Harvey Bullock— the real one— had called her and given her an address not a day and a half ago. He’d said something about a witch. As far as she knew, witches turned people into frogs. But birds weren’t far off.

o-o-o-o-o

“What a surprise,” Erina began as she glanced toward the three cages that housed a few very quiet sparrows. Two of them had put themselves to sleep from exhaustion, but one tenacious little brown one who’d gotten the hang of being a bird a bit better than the others was still awake and glaring menacingly at her.

“I help them, give them everything they could possibly want…” she sighed, “…they don’t call, they don’t write.”

The bird made a sound at her that sounded oddly like a growl.

“I guess it’s only been two days, but—,”

She was cut off when the door swung open violently. She stood up quickly to confront the intruder, but seemed to almost immediately relax as if she knew the person, or as if something about them was simply unthreatening.

“Who are you?” She asked, less demanding than one would a stranger who’d just barged into one’s home. But after only a few moments the “stranger” walked into Jim’s line of sight, and it was obvious why. A teenage girl in a green dress and heels isn’t often seen as a threat. She was glancing around the room at all of the birds, and as she did they started getting loud, as if they were attempting to warn Erina.

“You’re Penguin’s little side-kick…” she recognized and her guard went back up, and Ivy Pepper huffed with some annoyance at the accusation.

“I guess. He asked me to come here for some reason. He said you had something for him?”

Erina’s eyes narrowed with suspicion. “What?”

“A package?” Ivy requested, taking a step forward. “Anything ring a bell? Because this place is kind of gross and I wanna get going.”

“Then leave. Tell him I don’t have anything for him right now,” Erina seemed plenty suspicious, and Jim was starting to worry for Ivy’s safety.

“Seriously. It stinks in here.” Ivy pulled a small bottle of some sort from a pocket in her dress. “Is that all the birds? You could use some air-freshener… here, smell this…” Ivy sprayed some of what was in the bottle on her wrist and immediately held it up close to Erina’s nose. Erina turned her head away in what appeared to be an attempt to avoid breathing it in, but a moment later she turned back to Ivy, and a smile graced her face.

Ivy smiled back.

“So,” Ivy said. “You want to tell me how you can help me get Pengy back, right?”

o-o-o-o-o-o

Jim blinked, his head pounding as the world around him blurred into focus. It was a different world than the one he’d been seeing only moments before. A different room, more specifically, and everything felt different, too. More comfortable, softer, and less upright.

It only took him a few blinks to realize he was in a bed, lying on his side, and based on the hand he raised in front of his face and wiggling fingers— he was human again. It was confusing, but he couldn’t complain. His hands looked familiar— they were his hands, he was sure of it.

He felt groggy but perhaps that was just a side effect of switching back, or maybe it was courtesy of the sparrow’s french fries and sugar-coffee diet. Whatever the case, he wanted to find a mirror and confirm for certain that he had his own face back, but something else drew his attention.

There was a figure lying next to him, still, breathing softly— definitely sleeping. It was a little dark but there were candles, and the flickering light was enough to reveal it as Oswald.

Jim remembered seeing Ivy in Erina’s home. He remembered her falling into some kind of hypnosis, and then he remembered Erina following Ivy’s every request for the next few hours as she concocted various spells, or brews, or Jim didn’t know what. All he knew was that Ivy had stayed there and made her undo all three of the switches.

The last thing Jim remembered was Ivy telling Erina to do the chicken dance, and then he’d blacked out.

He didn’t know why her loyalty to Oswald seemed so strong, but he wasn’t going to question it. He was human again, and he’d have to thank her later.

There was a lamp on a table just past Oswald, and he remembered it from the last time he slept here. Something felt wrong though. Oswald’s bed had been organized with one thick comforter and four pillows, two on each side. Right now, he was sure he was under and wrapped up in multiple blankets and sheets, and Oswald was too.

It took some doing to free his arms from the blankets his body seemed to be rolled up in, and in doing so it didn’t take him long to find he was wearing what felt like flannel pajamas. He leaned forward and reached over Oswald, straining to turn on the light.

Oswald shifted slightly the moment he did, and it drew Jim’s attention to the fact that his face was only inches from Oswald’s sleeping one. His breath caught in his throat as Oswald’s eyelids twitched in some form of reaction— to the light or to a dream, he couldn’t say. The last time he’d seen Oswald like this he was a bird, and it felt safe to think about wanting to kiss him.

Now he was a man, and that desire felt dangerously real.

He was leaning over Oswald, inner turmoil distracting him from noticing Oswald’s leg twitching. He didn’t realize the other man was waking up until he squeezed his eyes shut and sucked in a deep breath. Jim practically panicked but he was wrapped up too snug in the blankets to leave the bed quickly without making it obvious he was scrambling to get away. So instead he defaulted back to where he started, and settled his head against the pillow where it had been.

Oswald had about as much trouble getting his hands free as Jim had, but when he finally pulled one out of the mess of blankets he used it to rub his eyes. Once they were adjusted, he looked over at Jim.

“Jim?” He questioned.

Jim nodded.

“You’re really Jim?” if he hadn’t already been squinting from the light he probably would have been with suspicion.

“Yeah. Looks like we’re back.”

Oswald eyed him wearily but seemed to believe him for now.

“How?” Oswald mumbled, still half asleep it seemed.

“I’m not sure, but I saw Ivy in the witch’s house, and then I woke up here. She must’ve done something.”

Oswald sat quietly, considering.

“Hn.” He said.

“What?”

“She has this perfume that she uses to make people do whatever she wants,” Oswald explained. “She must’ve used it to make the witch turn us back.”

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that…” Jim grumbled. That was incredibly convenient, and he wasn’t about to complain about her methods considering he was alive and unfeathered.

Oswald looked down, frowning at the surplus of sheets and blankets that he was underneath and wrapped up in.

“What is all this?” Oswald’s brow furrowed as he gathered a bunch of the blankets surrounding them in a fist and lifted it to his eyes.

“A nest,” Jim guessed, still not moving to get up. “Old habits die hard, I guess.”

“Damn birds,” Oswald said, sighing and dropping his fistful of flannel blanket. He lay there for a moment, looking at Jim expectantly. Jim understood why. It was 2 am and this was Oswald’s home. They were both exhausted, and there was no reason for Oswald to get out of his own bed.

But Jim had an apartment, and his own bed too.

He didn’t move or get up. Instead he stayed, looking at Oswald across the pillows.

“Well,” Oswald huffed, quickly turning over to lie on the opposite side facing the opposite direction. “I guess you can stay over for old time’s sake, but don’t forget, you’re not a bird anymore. Don’t you have a job to do?”

“Not right this second.” Jim mumbled.

Oswald was talking to the wall but only because he couldn’t look at Jim anymore. It was intolerable that Jim seemed content to just lay there, especially when Oswald recalled his little confession. But, Jim had slept in that very same spot two nights ago— though he’d been much smaller then. And he’d spent nearly a week as a bird, perhaps he wasn’t fully aware of the implications his human form being so close just yet.

Explanations aside, maybe some part of Oswald just wanted him to stay.

Oswald tugged hard at one of the blankets that was only making it halfway up his waist. It didn’t budge.

“I think that one’s wrapped around me,” Jim said plainly, and Oswald heard him start to move, feeling the bed shift as well.

“Great,” Oswald huffed with frustration as he waited for Jim to free it. By the creaking of the bed and the small bounces on his mattress it sounded like it was a project. And somehow by the end Jim had scooted and shimmied much, much closer to him. Once the blanket was untangled from his person, Jim went as far as to pick it up from Oswald’s waist, and drag it up his body so it covered him up to his shoulder.

“There you go,” he said with some humor, but Oswald couldn’t speak. Jim had patted him on the shoulder after pulling it up, and then he’d just left his hand there. His hand didn’t move for a long time. Total silence between them, and the hand squeezed his shoulder ever so gently. He wanted to say something but what the hell could he say? So he lay there tongue-tied, until Jim’s hand started sliding down his arm and he could finally breath.

He thought Jim was lazily removing it, and maybe that had been his original intent. But instead it stopped at his elbow, then dropped to his waist, knocking the wind out of Oswald all over again. His eyes fluttered shut and he tried to control his breathing, burying his head in the pillow.

“Oswald,” Jim said his name in his voice— the voice he always used, quiet but deep and no one’s definition of soft but his own. “About what you said in the cooler…”

Oswald shut his eyes tightly. “You don’t have to say anything about that,” Oswald said.Jim sighed with what sounded like frustration. A little annoyed, Oswald turned over to face him once more. Jim looked surprised when he did, blinking in askance and waiting.“I thought you’d never be able to speak again, that’s why I said it, because I didn’t want you to ever say anything about it. So please, don—,”

Jim cut him off when he kissed him on the mouth, his timing somehow perfect like it never was before, just as Oswald’s lips came together between words Jim’s touched his and fit against them like perhaps he’d once or twice imagined they would. Jim kissed him slowly and softly and the it made the soft candlelight feel warmer and as if everything could truly be as perfect as Jim Gordon kissing him in his bed surrounded by soft sheets and candles.

“Jim,” Oswald said weakly in the same moment as Jim’s lips left his. He needed to stop this. Jim was a man again, a cop again, no longer his pet, and no longer needed his help. Perhaps Jim could afford to forget that, but if Oswald did it would only end up breaking his heart.

“I know,” Jim said, quietly, but despite allegedly knowing he raised his hand to Oswalds face. If this continued Oswald could have been left in shambles and even emptier than before and Jim says _'I know.'_ He had no fucking idea.

Oswald was nothing without his self-control at times he absolutely needed it and with Jim’s mouth only inches away from his and his hands still tucked away under the sheets but aching to touch him, this was one of those times.

“I just…” Jim started, and then stopped. He was always wanting things he couldn’t have, trying to stand in both worlds but living in a place so far from anything Oswald could be allowed to touch. He was selfish and blunt and infuriating and Oswald knew it so well, fought with himself so often in the beginning not to use the word ‘love.’ Friend, stooge, ally, enemy, tool, inconvenience, no matter which Jim was to him at the forefront that word always lingered at the back. It was mortifying and he’d only just recently moved on from it just to stop it from ripping even more of his humanity away from him.

It wasn’t fair. He wasn’t strong enough for this. He once believed love was the ultimate good, could triumph over anything. Perhaps with all the bad he’d done that made it his enemy, and now it was trying to destroy him.

“What are you thinking about?” Jim’s voice broke his thoughts and Oswald’s eyes snapped up as he realized they’d drifted down as he lost himself in nonsensical inner turmoil. The candles and nest were still here, and Jim was too, silent and still and waiting for an answer.

“How much I hate you,” Oswald said on a weak breath. Jim had the nerve to laugh, and Oswald ground his teeth together before he surged forward, raising his hands to hold Jim’s head in place as he kissed him hard on the mouth and pulled himself closer, shimmying across the mess of sheets and blankets until he could wrap his arms tightly under Jim’s and pulled the rest of his body as close as he could.

Jim did the rest, hands to his waist that tugged their hips together, his hand finding its way underneath the hem of the strange pajamas Oswald was wearing and touching his skin. It felt electric, and Jim was greedy. That hand pushed Oswald’s shirt up as far as it would go and explored wherever it wanted to, palm squeezing his hip, thumb rubbing circles over his stomach, tongue behaving just about the same inside his mouth.

It was those hands and the feeling of Jim’s skin against his when he pressed up against him that assured Oswald that, even if he wasn’t going to be kept, he wanted to be taken.

It would have to be enough.

o-o-o-o-o

Oswald sat at his desk, eyeing the pile of incoming mail he had to sort through— the kind he only trusted himself to. It was good to be back, even if he had only been a bird for a little over a day, it seemed like a truly terrible fate. For that reason, he didn’t see any need to exact any revenge against the ambitious little shits that had done that to him.

Ivy got a raise so she’d shut up about having saved his life again. He’d find a reason to dock her in a few weeks. Harvey Bullock had seemed particularly mortified at the memory of having been a feathery beast, and that was amusing. The witch herself had left Gotham, and to Oswald that made her as good as dead.

It was over, everything back to normal. Except he’d fucked Jim Gordon and couldn’t stop thinking about it.

It was sad to think it might never happen again, but in retrospect it wasn’t a bad memory. And the fact that he was evidently good in bed rather than a total burnout was just one more reason to hate the man.

Either way, there was work to be done. He picked up a pen—

“Boss,” Zsasz’s voice interrupted his resolve and he huffed in frustration. “Jim Gordon’s here to see you. Again. Should we maybe just start renting him a room?”

Oswald froze and took a moment to answer, setting the pen down slowly and standing.

_-12 hours earlier-_

“Jim, wait…” Oswald was on his back, his clothes were on the ground mixed in with the excessive collection of blankets that Jim had eventually thrown out of their way. Jim was leaning over him between his thighs, pressed against his entrance with a look on his face like his eyes were ready to roll back in his head.

He started breathing in harsh huffs when he paused and looked to Oswald with a question in those eyes.

“I know this doesn’t mean anything, but—,” Oswald had stopped himself mid-sentence, needing to take a deep breath. He just wanted to in some manner, convey to Jim how he felt about their relationship with words. If they were doing this, this incredibly intimate thing and if—

Jim raised his hand to his face, pressed his thumb against his lips, stopping him from continuing even if he knew what he was going to say.

“We’ve always meant something,” he said, and Oswald released a steady breath that relaxed him. He lifted his arms with urgency and wrapped them around Jim’s neck, pulling him down and burying his face against his shoulder. He lifted his hips moved them to encourage Jim to continue, and almost immediately felt Jim lining himself up again.

“You can’t tell me you didn’t know at least part of me liked you,” Jim’s lips moved against his ear as he whispered with humor in his voice. Oswald laughed ironically in response.

“—if that’s how you treat people you like—,” Oswald gasped vocally when Jim pressed in, slowly, but it was enough to render him speechless for a few moments.

“Oswald,” Jim’s mouth still against his ear, gasping his name and for breath as he pushed forward. Oswald shut his eyes tight and pressed them hard into Jim’s shoulder, mouth gaping open as Jim pushed further into him.

“Jim,” he said frantically, brain short-circuiting. “Jim!” His breath started coming out in little pants when Jim started to move— slowly, not too fast, but the feeling of him inside was tearing Oswald to pieces in the best way.

“I love you,” he said, and fuck if he meant it or wanted to mean it or none of the above because it made Jim thrust hard into him and release the deepest, sexiest moan against his ear.

“I love you,” he said again, and Jim started to move faster, almost as if he was losing control.

_“I love you, I love you, I love you…”_

-present-

The sound of Oswald’s own voice in his memory faded out as the sound of a bird chirping in the present called him back to reality. He looked up from where he’d gotten lost staring off to find Jim, standing there in the doorway with a cardboard box. The top was open, and there was a little blue feathered head and yellow beak poking up out of it.

Oswald just stared at him for a moment, and Jim stared back, but took a long time to speak.

Finally, he cleared his throat.

“I know it’s not a penguin,” Jim said, voice a little uncharacteristically quiet, but not far off enough for Oswald to suspect he’d been body-snatched again. “But, I thought, since you have all the stuff for one, and you seemed to like having me as a pet so much…”

He seemed apprehensive to walk into the room.

Oswald sympathized, so he took a deep breath and stepped out from behind his desk, approaching Jim and the box in his hand as well as the little blue-capped black-eyed face looking curiously in his direction.

Oswald couldn’t help but smile at the memory of his former short term pet bird, ironically standing right in front of him.

“He’s really calm, and friendly. I didn’t name him. I thought I’d leave that to you.” Jim held the box out, a little too eager for Oswald to take it. Maybe he feared he wouldn’t accept it. “If you want to keep it, that is.”

“My mother liked birds,” Oswald said, a little off-handedly, or maybe as an explanation as to why he was definitely going to keep it. “I suppose I’ll have to think on a name.”

The bird was calm in the box, and merely turned its head from side to side to observe him as Jim handed it over.

“Glad you like it,” Jim said, “…it’s really all I could think of as far as thanks.”

“Thanks?” Oswald asked, their encounter from the night before coming to mind. That was rather a crude thing to be thanking him for, though—

“For helping me find out why I was a bird. I’d probably be dead if it weren’t for you,” Jim explained.

Ah, that made more sense.

“Probably,” Oswald agreed, shrugging.

“You’ll take good care of him, right?” Jim looked down at the little blue bird in the box. “If not I think there’s a law in Gotham against animal negligence.”

“Negligence? What kind of man do you think I am?” Oswald huffed at the insinuation that any pet of Oswald’s wouldn’t be treated like royalty.

Jim smiled, like he’d thought it was funny of Oswald to say, but he looked satisfied.

“Well,” Jim shifted his weight as if he was getting antsy. “Better get him to his new home, then,” Jim gestured toward the cage he’d spent a night in. It looked a lot nicer when he wasn’t about to be forced to live in it.

Oswald took a deep breath, nodding, but instead of walking over to the cage he set the box down on the doorside table as the little bird walked around aimlessly inside it.

“Jim,” he started. Jim was looking at the bird, not at him, even as he spoke. “I know it’s a parting gift. I know you’re just here to establish that whatever happened last night is over.”

Jim didn’t protest.

“Hell, in a week I might be up to no good or you might dig up some excuse to try and arrest me, or—,” Oswald sighed as the possibilities and their outcomes ran too quickly through his head and all were discomforting. “My point is, I get it. You didn’t have to get me a bird.”

Jim forced a wry smile. “We’re both likely to be in Gotham for the rest of our lives. Maybe it’s not over forever. Maybe you could stop breaking the law.” He was obviously not expecting it to happen when he looked at Oswald with a sheepish smile and Oswald had to laugh at the absurdity of it.

“Good-bye, Jim,” he sighed, reaching out instinctively to pet the bird’s head with two fingers when it stretched its neck out. “See you when I see you.”

Jim nodded, his stance appearing very small as he turned on his heel. That was fine with Oswald, because Oswald didn’t feel small. They were who they were, and who he was liked watching Jim feel small.

“Jim!” He called after the man, and waited for Jim to stop and turn half-way around.

“His name is Elijah,” Oswald said.

Jim gave pause, and then spoke, “I might’ve guessed you’d go with that.”

Oswald was annoyed at that remark, but he was also too distracted with the fact that Elijah was stepping up onto his finger to say anything back.

Footsteps, and Jim was gone.

o-o-o-o

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed. I'm sorry they didn't end up together together, but I was hoping it would read heavily like there is something for them in the future, after some more bullshit goes down in season 4, and I think there is.
> 
> I hope it's clear that the overlying plot is birds were stalking oswald so they could take his body and power, then after some manipulation him and jim were body swapped with sparrows, and then ivy noticed bc oswald was being too nice and came along and made the switchy witchy put them back. hooray!!!


End file.
